


Just Until I Know What I'm Feeling

by cori_the_bloody



Category: Community (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-31
Updated: 2015-11-24
Packaged: 2018-04-02 04:18:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 98,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4045642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cori_the_bloody/pseuds/cori_the_bloody
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the study group's sixth year at Greendale, and Jeff's in love with Annie. Too bad she doesn't know that. Yet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1a of 3

**Author's Note:**

> First and foremost, thank you to my patient, skilled, and delightful beta: [](http://bethanyactually.livejournal.com/profile)[bethanyactually](http://bethanyactually.livejournal.com/). The title for this story comes from a Four Star Mary song called "She Knows." I hope you enjoy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Spoilers:** If you've watched through s5, nothing should be spoiled for you.  
>  **Word Count:** 6,260  
>  **Rating/Warnings:** This chapter is PG-13, but the story will contain plenty of sex, drugs, and alcohol. Use personal discretion.  
>  **Disclaimer:** These characters belong to Dan Harmon, etc., etc. I simply enjoy manipulating them.  
> 

 

It's been nearly two months since Jeff's seen Annie. She spent six weeks of her summer at some renowned forensics program in northern California, and he's been busy teaching summer classes at Greendale. They made a few plans to get together once she was back, but one of them had to cancel every time on account of papers to grade or babysitting emergencies and shifts at new jobs.

  


So, yeah, he's a little nervous.

  
  


It's the first day of fall classes and he should be making jokes at Leonard's expense or talking Abed down from some ill-advised adventure. Instead, he's tenaciously resisting the urge to smile like a manic goof all while frantically searching the recesses of his wit for something cool or interesting to say to her.

  


Of course, it doesn’t help that she's already in their study room, hunched over a binder and fluidly taking notes, when he approaches. She's not even looking at him head-on and Jeff's kinda staggered by how beautiful she is. If possible, her hair looks silkier. The pale skin of her forehead, all crinkled with concentration, looks golden-pink from what he can only assume is a faded sunburn.

  


And he loves her. Fuck, does he love her. Now that he knows it, the feeling resonates—huge and tingly—from his chest to his fingertips. He wonders how he ever kept such an insistent feeling in check, how he managed to derisively disown any suggestion that he might have felt this way for the past five years.

  


Her head snaps up as soon as she hears the door thunk closed, and Jeff feels a tug in his chest at the way her entire face radiates happiness at seeing him.

  


"Oh, good, I was hoping you'd be the first to get here."

  


"Wanted some quality time with the Wing-man?" he jokes, settling in his customary chair.

  


"Always," she grins. “But there’s more to it than that. First, how was your summer?"

  


He shrugs and gestures grandly. "You're lookin' at it. Summer classes and all. You wouldn't believe the how much weirder summer Greendale students are than the regular bunch."

  


Annie rolls her eyes. "I'm sure you'll regale everyone with the horrors you've suffered."

  


"No one's life is harder than mine. How was caper camp?"

  


"Amazing!" Annie gushes, her eyes lighting up. "I learned so much! The leader of the program, Dr. Floyd, was so intelligent and engaging. I got picked for a special project the last week and was able to work closely with him and a few other kids from the program. One of the guys, Dom, is actually from Denver.” She smiles all shy, her cheeks gaining the slightest hint of pink, as she slips into her rainbows and butterflies voice.

  


"I'm so proud of you, Annie." Jeff hopes his sincerity sounds out over the urge to clench his teeth.

  


She nods, unbothered by his sudden tension. "It's good to be home, though." She rubs the study table affectionately before plopping down a thick packet in front of Jeff that, upon closer inspection, looks like an agenda. She becomes serious, the lilt in her voice meaning business. "I've been emailing with the dean. He agrees with me that we shouldn't just wait around for the school board to sell Greendale. We need to be on the offensive."

  


"So the Save Greendale Committee lives?"

  


"Bet your bottom dollar. We can't allow the corporatization of our home."

  


"Okay, Britta." Jeff jokes, but Annie soldiers on over him.

  


" _So_ our main goal is going to be finding donors and grants that fund the school without compromising what it's about." Annie raises her eyebrows expectantly, obviously waiting for Jeff's opinion.

  


"Easier said than done," he points out. "But with you leading the cause, I think we could make it happen."

  


Annie visibly relaxes and preens at the compliment. "Thanks, Jeff."

  


He feels his heart wrench with adrenaline and he considers blurting everything out. But Shirley and Britta wander into the room at exactly the wrong moment, deep in an argument about birth control. Abed is trailing behind them, looking bored.

  


"I'm just saying, you're not left with much more than the pull-out method." Shirley scoffs at Britta’s statement, disgusted. "And you should never leave the responsibility of a hypothetical child to men."

  


"If the good Lord doesn't want me to get pregnant, then I won't. It's called faith, Brit-ta."

  


"Yeah, but the pill is ninety-nine percent effective. What's God's rate?"

  


Jeff cuts in when he sees the familiar flash of rage in Shirley's eyes. "Ladies! Abed!" He greets enthusiastically. "How was your summer?"

  


Abed is the first to answer: "Okay. I worked for my dad, which was as fun as sitting through Ghostbusters 2. I was in a rut, and I decided to explore some more experimental methods of filmmaking. Britta helped. It was a disaster."

  


Jeff feels his eyebrow quirk at this news.

  


"Don't give me that look, Winger. I think hanging out with me has been very therapeutic for Abed in the wake of Troy's absence. Even if our short sucked."

  


"Britta got really high one afternoon and spent three hours crying on our couch about how much she misses Troy."

  


"Abed!" Britta protests.

  


"It was very enlightening."

  


Annie and Shirley each give a drawn out, "Aww!" as Britta pouts.

  


"My summer was nice." Shirley chirps. "Andre and I came to an understanding. He moved back in so we can give the boys a stable home life."

  


"Shirley." The reprehension is clear in Britta's voice.

  


Once again, Jeff swoops in to stop a full-blown argument from developing. He doesn't know why he bothers—Shirley and Britta squabble over stupid shit all the time—but part of him craves a quiet, happy reunion with the friends who have all been too busy to spend much time hanging out. "Is this everyone?"

  


Annie nods, addressing the group. "Professor Hickey's duck cartoon was picked up by a kid's periodical based out of Chicago; he moved at the beginning of summer. Duncan was hospitalized for alcohol poisoning about a week ago. He'll be back after his recovery."

  


"Though I risk retribution from the universe for even uttering his name, what's the scoop on Chang?"

  


Annie shrugs, looking worried. "The last I heard, he swallowed one of his tooth diamonds and it lodged in his throat. I have no idea what happened, though."

  


The group falls silent for a moment, one alarming assumption hanging in the air.

  


"Oh, Lord." Shirley mutters, making the sign of the cross and quickly reciting a prayer under her breath.

  


"Buenos días, bitches!" Chang pops out of the bottom of a bookshelf, pushing several texts out onto the floor in the process. "Don't you know I can't be killed?"

  


"GAH!" Everyone shrieks collectively.

  


Chang takes his place in Troy's old seat.

  


"How long did you have to wait there to pull off that entrance?" Annie asks, exasperated.

  


"I've been there since 3 a.m. I am a comedic _genius_."

  


"Honestly, do you even know the meaning of the word?" Annie huffs.

  


Jeff chuckles, relaxing into the moment.

  


But it's short lived.

  


"How's my favorite gang-bang?" The dean swoops into the room, making a beeline for Jeff. The face of every study group member stares in wide-eyed horror. "Oh, that's not - I was going for a rhyme thing. Welcome back, everyone! Jeffrey."

  


Jeff resists the urge to swat the dean's hand off his pecs. "Dean."

  


"I was just checking in to remind you all I'll be giving my usual beginning of the year speech on the quad in thirty minutes. I hope to _dean_ you there! Especially you, Jeffrey." As he does a grapevine out of the room, Dean Pelton winks and blows Jeff a kiss.

  


Grimacing, Jeff turns to find Annie raising her eyebrow at him. He sees the tell-tale signs that she's trying to puzzle something out: her eyes are wide with curiosity and her mouth forms a questioning 'O.' Knowing what she's like in crime-solver mode, Jeff assumes it's only a matter of time before she makes some kind of move.

  


He realizes he should interfere, but he also knows it'll be more fun to wait Annie out, see what she has in store.

  


###

  


It's six o'clock on a Friday night. Abed and Rachel are watching their way through the Shrek franchise, and Annie just got home from a shift at her new job: cashier at the Barnes and Noble in the Greendale Mall.

  


She drops her purse and backpack in her bedroom, waves at the cozy-looking couple, and totes her laptop into the kitchen. While she boils water for ramen—pretty much the only thing in their pantry—Annie absentmindedly checks all her social media profiles.

  


She's thinking of all the homework she has to do and all the extra projects she should get ahead on this weekend when a message pops up on her Facebook. It's from Dom.

  


_How'd the first week of classes go for overachieving Annie Edison?_

  


Annie smiles to herself, emptying the packet of noodles into the boiling water before typing: _Oh, you know. I have tons of cases to read over for my legal writing class, a lab report to write for chemistry, and some extra credit studies I should do for abnormal psychology. I also have to research grant writing, submit the week's crosswords to my editor, and re-register my model UN group._

  


_So, business as usual?_ Dom jokes, quickly sending a winking face.

  


_Basically. You?_

  


As Annie waits for him to type back she finishes making her dinner and gingerly takes everything back into her room where she can work in relative quiet.

  


She settles on her bed with her backpack, intent on getting some of the easier tasks on her to-do list done.

  


Dom responds while she's arranging her pillows behind her back. _I've got to struggle through some calculus, catch up on my book club reading, and design a fifteen minute multimedia presentation about technological advancements in law enforcement. So busy, but not Edison busy._

  


_Few people in the world can handle such a lifestyle._

  


_True. I'd rather admire it from a safe distance._ Another winky face.

  


Annie hesitates. He had been flirting with her since day one of the program: inviting her to sit with him in the dining halls and asking her to be his partner for all group work.

  


And, yeah, he's fairly attractive. He's a swimmer, so his body is lean and his muscles are toned. He's considerate and intelligent and he dotes on her like she's the best thing since sliced bread.

  


It's nice, and Annie can't help but feel drawn in by all the attention.

  


But, deep down, she knows it's not more than that for her. She likes to be liked, but she doesn't share Dom's total affection.

  


He messages again: _you still there? We should make plans to see each other Labor Day weekend._

  


Annie sighs, her fingers poised over the keyboard as she considers a response. Her phone buzzes before she comes up with anything intelligible. She sees Abed's number also attached to the message and opens it to find a picture of Shirley, Jeff, and Britta. Britta's at work, leaning over the counter of the bar. Jeff and Shirley are on either side: Shirley's holding the phone and a scotch is blurred on its way to Jeff's lips. " _Come play?_ " the accompanying message reads.

  


Annie's eyes linger over the curve of Jeff's smirk…then they're drawn to his cheek, pressed as it is against Britta's.

  


Feeling a wrench in her stomach, she types out a halfhearted excuse about studying, then returns to Dom's question.

  


_That sounds lovely. What did you have in mind?_

  


###

  


Tuesdays are Jeff’s easy day because he only has one morning class and a couple of afternoon office hours. He uses the generous amount of time between his obligations to either hole up in his office, have a couple of drinks in the teachers’ lounge, or meet the group to hang out with Shirley on her fifteen-minute lunch breaks.

  


Which is where Jeff finds himself now, racking a game of pool for him and Abed while the ladies chat on the couches in the cafeteria alcove.

  


Shirley and Britta are rating guy’s asses and Annie is neurotically typing away on her laptop.

  


“Okay, everyone got my email about the grant-writing training session, right?” When no one says anything, she continues, concern and pitch mounting: “Tomorrow? 2:00 pm sharp.”

  


“Is it really that complicated? Can’t you just give us an instruction sheet or something?” Britta whines.

  


"The continued existence of our school depends on this. I'm not going to let you—or Chang—Britta it."

  


Britta rolls her eyes derisively and mumbles under her breath.

  


Shirley breaks in with her cloying voice. "But does everyone have to be there, Annie? Andre and I were going to—”

  


Annie silences her with a glare that’s brittle as hell. "Attendance. Is. Mandatory." She punctuates each word.

  


"I'm sure your PowerPoint will be very enlightening." Jeff sniggers.

  


She practically vibrates at his comment, snapping her head around to stick her tongue out at him.

  


He smiles to himself, ducking down to break the table so no one will notice how positively giddy he is.

  


He hasn’t completely wiped the dopey smirk off his face when he looks up to find Abed—eyebrow cocked—searchingly examining Jeff’s face. The smile slips right off when Abed’s gaze then swoops to where Annie’s head is bobbing as she talks about planning something to draw positive attention to the school for once and does anyone want to help her brainstorm?

  


Abed meets Jeff’s stare again, and Jeff tries to affect total nonchalance.

  


Abed is still puzzling when Chang suddenly runs past, what looks to be dusty baseball bases clutched to his chest. A man decked out in worn umpire gear with “GCC” emblazoned on the chest puffs behind him.

  


“You’ll pay for this!” he yells. “Literally! You are stealing school property!”

  


Chang turns to taunt, “All your base are belong to me!” before running out the door.

  


Abed perks up immediately and turns as if to say something to the person next to him. Realizing there’s no one, he droops. “I miss Troy.”

  


Shirley and Annie give a subdued, sad “Aww.”

  


Britta stands to go rub Abed’s shoulder. “We miss him, too, Abed. And he’ll come back eventually. All he has to do is sail around the world. This is the first and last stop, we just don’t know when the trip will end. Or if he’ll die before he makes it back. Or if—”

  


“Britta,” Abed interrupts, “you’re the opposite of Batman.” Then he hugs her, and everyone lets the somber mood settle like fog.

  


Jeff doesn’t weigh in, but he feels the hollow in the group as profoundly as the others. He misses Troy more than he’s capable of admitting in front of all his friends.

  


He also feels kind of relieved that Abed’s computer of a brain hadn’t been able to finish processing his moment with Annie. He’s going to tell everyone—he’s going to tell Annie—that he’s in love with her. But he’s waited so long, and he has some things he has to do first. He wants the moment to go well and be everything Annie deserves.

  


Patience is not Abed’s strong suit, especially when waiting impedes character development.

  


###

  


Annie’s struggling to set up the portable projection screen, standing on her tip-toes and trying to reach where the screen hooks. Suddenly, she feels the warmth of someone right behind her as Jeff easily drops the screen doohickey into its place on the hanger. “Midget,” he teases, only stepping back far enough to give Annie the space to turn around.

  


Irritated, she does so too fast and ends up leaning into Jeff’s chest as she finds her center of balance again. She recuperates quickly, but Jeff’s hand lingers at her waist. “Giant Forehead Monster,” Annie volleys back.

  


“Are you trying to make me cry?”

  


“We both know I could if I put my mind to it.”

  


Jeff cringes playfully. "Too true."

  


He sits in his usual place at the table while Annie sets her laptop on top of the projector cart and starts untangling all the wires. "We really need some new projectors." She notes mournfully. "All these wires are starting to fray and the projection is always crooked."

  


"This is Greendale." Jeff reminds her needlessly. "You're probably the only one in the whole school that actually uses these things." He pulls out a small leather-covered notebook from his jeans, though, and jots something down.

  


Annie looks stunned. "Is that—is that the planner I got you after you started teaching here?"

  


Jeff looks like he's been caught doing something reprehensible for a moment, his eyes wide and his mouth slack. "Oh, yeah." He shrugs casually after recovering. "I forgot to give a final exam in one of my summer classes. I've been using it since."

  


Annie doesn't know whether to be proud or horrified. She settles on proud and does a little squirm-clap dance.

  


“Then again, burning it is still on the table.”

  


“You care about Greendale. You want to get organized and make it a better place.”

  


“Maybe I’m hoping if we become a credible institution, I’ll make more money. I'm inherently selfish, Annie. Remember that.”

  


“You just said credible institution.” Annie coos. “You so care.”

  


At that moment, the projector kicks on—crooked, much to Annie’s profound irritation—and displays the opening slide of her PowerPoint. Jeff grins smugly, exaggeratedly looking from her to the screen.

  


“Shut up.” She grumbles, glancing down to flip through her notecards. Britta filters in then, looking a little haggard.

  


“Tummy Tuesday.” She offers by way of explanation, unceremoniously falling into her seat.

  


“How _does_ a feminist reconcile letting drunken businessmen slurp tequila from her belly button with anti-objectification beliefs?” Jeff goads.

  


“How about you ask your mom?”

  


“I’d probably have more luck asking yours.”

  


“Why don’t you bite me?”

  


“I would, but I might contract something.”

  


“Jeff.” Annie cuts in sternly. “Too far.”

  


“Wha—” he stutters.

  


“Thanks, Annie.” Britta punctuates her gratitude by sticking her tongue out at Jeff.

  


“Britta, shut up. Your job _is_ gross, and you better not fall asleep during my presentation.”

  


Accepting her reprimand, Britta grunts, pulls her only notebook from her oversized bag, and flips through it looking for some blank space.

  


Chang and Abed arrive a few moments later, followed closely by Shirley and then the Dean, who inserts himself into the seat next to Jeff.

  


“Thanks for coming, Dean.” Annie nods at him.

  


“Of course, Annie. I wouldn’t miss out on the chance to spend time learning with my favorite people.” Dean Pelton pats Jeff’s forearm.

  


"Speaking of favorite people," Annie commands the attention of the room, "Professor Duncan is coming back less than a week from today. I was thinking we could all bring in a little treat and have a relaxed meeting to celebrate his return."

  


"I question both the logic of your segue and me putting in the time or effort to bring in a treat."

  


"We should take him to a bar; he loves those!" Chang offers.

  


"I can get us a small discount on drinks if we go to my bar." Britta chimes in.

  


"He's recovering from alcohol poisoning." Abed reminds them.

  


"We could take him to my church. Lord knows that man could use some Godly grace." Shirley clucks her tongue.

  


Exasperated, Annie catches Jeff's eye and pointedly raises her eyebrows.

  


Sighing, he cuts into the devolving discussion. "I retract my earlier statement! We should totally have treats in the study room." He says it with forced cheeriness, but Annie hums, satisfied, when the group quiets down.

  


“Great. I’ll send out an email with a snack sign-up so nobody brings the same thing. Now let’s move on to the finer points of grant writing.”

  


It takes Annie a full ninety minutes—including the time it takes to answer all of Chang’s asinine and unusual questions—to finish her presentation. Once she’s done, the silence that pervades the room reminds her of the kind that follows a morning of standardized testing. Everyone seems a little dazed.

  


As Annie powers down her laptop, she closes with: “I’ll send everyone a copy of the PowerPoint for reference. Remember to always email me the first draft so I can edit what everyone’s sending out. You all know your first assignments?”

  


The group grumbles, and Annie resigns herself to the fact that they’ve all tuned out. “Meeting adjourned.” She releases them with a wave of her hand.

  


No one leaves, but they instantly become more animated. Abed turns to Britta to goad her with the news that Inspector Spacetime announced a woman actor for the new Constable Reggie, and the message boards are exploding with negative feedback. Chang asks Shirley if he can still go to church with her next week, and Shirley’s lip curls in indecision.

  


Annie’s focus is drawn to Dean Pelton asking Jeff about his plans for the long weekend, though. Obviously the dean has always had a crush on Jeff, but he’s intuited that nothing would ever actually happen save for in his fantasies. That's why it was so pronounced for Annie when Dean Pelton's advances started to resemble actual attempts to court Jeff. Since the begging of the summer, there's been a distinct difference in the dean's tactics.

  


"Why don't you just read my email to find out?" Jeff snarks, not unkindly.

  


"Oh, Jeffrey, if I thought you were serious, I'd be in my office with a bottle of lotion, some noise cancellation headphones, and the soundtrack to Mamma Mia right now. But it made you so upset last time, and I don't want to hurt you again." The dean places his hand lightly on Jeff's shoulder. Annie tries to hide her half-amused, half-disgusted face by busying herself with cleaning up the projector cart while she continues to glance surreptitiously in their direction.

  


Jeff grabs one of the dean's fingers to move his hand. "As uncomfortable as that image makes me, I appreciate the sentiment."

  


Dean Pelton flutters for a moment, pleased. "There's a faculty meeting on Tuesday. We could get drinks before…just the two of us." He actually bats his eyelashes.

  


“Pass.” Jeff cocks his head as if confused by the dean’s request. “Do we really have a faculty meeting? I didn't hear about it.”

  


Clearly lying, Dean Pelton squeaks, “Of course. Didn't you get the memo?”

  


“There’s a faculty meeting? When?” Chang, who's technically still a math professor, butts in.

  


Backed into a corner, the dean gets up and starts backing toward the door. “You know, I think it was cancelled because they’re fumigating my office. There’s a moth infestation. They’ve eaten through all my costumes. I don’t like to talk about it. Excuse me.” He darts off without another word.

  


“Oh,” Annie sighs to herself. She knows what it’s like to be rejected by Jeff. In fact, the dean is probably the only person to have been rejected by Jeff more than her. She can’t help but feel sympathy for his unrequited and intense feelings.

  


"I wonder if the moth thing is true." Abed questions aloud.

  


"It would explain why he hasn't barged into any of our meetings wearing a cherry-covered body suit to celebrate cherry turnover day."

  


"Is that a real day?" Britta's nose crinkles in doubt.

  


"Probably." Jeff shrugs. "They have a day for everything."

  


The group gets up to leave, discussing the most eclectic and arbitrary holidays they know, but Annie hangs back, her mind churning for the perfect way to help Dean Pelton.

  


###

  


Jeff is on his couch, a stack of first-of-the-semester tests on his crooked coffee table and a rerun of Law & Order: SVU playing in the background. He's not paying attention to either, though, instead cycling through the apps on his phone one by one. There's an overwhelming boredom and disinterest crowding his brain, and he can't seem to shake it. Not even burying Abed in a game of Words with Friends gives him the sense of satisfaction it should.

  


Feeling like a caged animal, Jeff throws the phone into the couch cushions and starts to pace.

  


It's a Friday night. He should be out at the bar or logging hours at his gym, but neither of those appeal to him.

  


Grunting, Jeff drops back into the couch and checks his email for the bajillionth time. Simply for something to do, he opens Annie's stupid snack sign-up and puts his name down for pretzels and trail mix, the path of least resistance. Let Shirley do the baking.

  


Before he closes his inbox, a forgotten sale email from Banana Republic catches his eye. Jeff could use some retail therapy, actually.

  


The mall is crowded, but it's a pretty nice evening for early September. Most people are taking advantage of the lingering sunshine, so he's able to find a decent parking spot.

  


Not in any hurry, Jeff wanders through The Gap and a few of the smaller boutiques. He tries on a few shirts and some jeans, but even the high of new clothes feels lackluster. The only purchase he settles on is a forest green sports coat.

  


He's carelessly spinning the bag on his finger and scanning the masses of people when a small woman with a dark ponytail crouching in front of a display of books catches his eye several storefronts ahead.

  


Jeff suddenly remembers that Annie's been working in the mall for over a month and grins. That's definitely her, compulsively straightening rows of books.

  


" _God Help the Child_ still looks a little lopsided, miss." Jeff sneaks up on her, making Annie jump. "I think you should pay more attention to presentation."

  


She gives him her I'm-annoyed-with-you-but-you're-also-charming smile/glare and swats at his arm. "Jeff! What are you doing here?"

  


He holds up his garment bag as evidence: "Shopping."

  


"Oooh," Annie bounces a little. "Whatcha get?"

  


Always game to model clothes, he slips the jacket out of the bag and tugs it on over his t-shirt. Annie giggles appreciatively and reaches up to straighten the collar. "Very nice. Dapper even," she compliments. Since she's right in his personal space, Jeff gets a huge whiff of Annie's coconut shampoo and strawberry lip balm. It's enticing and so specifically _Annie_ that he's suddenly hyperaware of his breath expanding his lungs and his blood buzzing in his veins and the existence of his thrumming, excitable heart.

  


She looks up to meet his gaze, and they're frozen in the moment. Jeff notices her instinctual reaction to his stare: her blush, the widening of her eyes, the subtle quirk of her eyebrow. But she pulls away too quickly, and the instant is gone. In its place, there is a notable fluster.

  


"Well, I should get back inside before my manager notices I've been wasting time on a non-customer."

  


The thought of finding something to do—of being alone with himself again—gives Jeff a panic-inducing lump in his throat. "One sec." Annie turns back to him curiously. "When do you get off?"

  


She consults her wristwatch. "An hour and fifteen minutes. Why?"

  


"We could do something after. Go for drinks or something?"

  


Annie brightens. "Cool. Cool, cool, cool." She mimics Abed, complete with corny finger guns. Jeff tries to give her a stony look of judgement, but she's pretty adorable in her uniform of khaki pants and polo shirt. He ends up beaming at her like a lovesick idiot. "What are you going to do until I'm done?"

  


Jeff contemplates wandering aimlessly some more, but he speaks without thinking when some dude that's clearly Annie's manager approaches. (Jeff notes with sick pleasure that he's a grungy white man with dreadlocks: definitely not someone Annie'd be interested in.) "Recommend a book for me."

  


Annie moves to feel Jeff's forehead, but he knocks her hand away. "Are you sick?" she checks.

  


Annie's manager is still hovering. "Just do it, weirdo."

  


"Well what do you want?" She shifts into sales mode and leads him into the store, nodding at her manager. Satisfied, the guy stalks into the back room, leaving Jeff and Annie alone in the body of the store. "Fiction? Law-related nonfiction? John Grisham?"

  


Jeff mulls it over, fingering the display of bookmarks. "How about one of your favorites?"

  


"Okay, seriously, do you have a fever? Did you bump your head?"

  


"I'm not allowed to care about what you like?"

  


"Not when it requires reading an entire book." She eyes him suspiciously. "Are you evil Jeff?"

  


"Ugh," Jeff throws up his hands and turns to leave.

  


"Wait, don't go. I'm sorry." Annie unleashes the full power of her pouty face on him. "I'm just surprised. But I'll totally recommend a book for you. Wait here."

  


He hangs out by the bookmarks, playing with the various tassels, as she disappears between the stacks. She's back moments later and hands him a tan hardcover. " _Eleanor & Park_?" he questions.

  


"It's a good book," she promises as she rings him up. "I'll be out in an hour. Happy reading." Annie giddily hands over the book, receipt tucked in the jacket, and then bounds off again.

  


Jeff wanders back outside and decides to buy a lemonade from the pretzel stand across the way. Drink in hand, he settles into one of the tables and starts to read.

  


He's surprised by how quickly the book draws him in. The characters are funny and easy to care about. Jeff finds himself particularly drawn to Eleanor's struggle with her weight and body image, as well as her frustration with a distant mother unwilling to talk about the problem at hand.

  


When Annie taps him on the shoulder an hour later, Jeff's mind stutters, disoriented by the sudden flood of mall sounds and smells.

  


Annie smiles knowingly. "You like it; I can tell."

  


"How?" Jeff rolls his eyes and sucks up the last drops of lemonade and melted ice before tossing the cup into a trash bin.

  


"You have that faraway look of someone who's been totally sucked into a fictional world."

  


Jeff nods vaguely. "I like Eleanor," he admits.

  


Annie smiles like he's given her the greatest gift, and he has to look away. "Me too. Park's mom is my other favorite."

  


"What? She's completely unreasonable." Jeff scoffs.

  


"Just wait." Annie hints ominously. "You're gonna finish it, right?"

  


"Maybe," Jeff hedges, fully aware that, yeah, he's going to read the book cover to cover.

  


She seems to know he's just being noncommittal and rolls her eyes at him. "So, I'm starving. Where are we going?"

  


"The Ballroom?"

  


"No." Annie shakes her head vigorously. "I'd have to pretend to be Caroline."

  


"What? Why? You have your own ID now, dork."

  


"Yeah, but if I just waltz in as Annie, they'll know I lied to them before."

  


"I'm sure they'll get over it."

  


"What if they don't? What if they kick me out? What if they call the cops and have me arrested?"

  


"What if I pay for your meal?" Jeff counters.

  


Annie squints as she considers the offer. "Fine," she decides, "I'll meet you there."

  


Jeff smiles to himself and watches as she trots off to where her car's parked, his eyes focusing on the sway of her hips of their own accord.

  


She beats him to the bar and is nervously pacing by the door when he walks up. "Having second thoughts?" he guesses.

  


"If I go to jail, it could affect my chances of getting a job."

  


Grinning at her obsessiveness, Jeff gently steers her toward the entrance with a hand on her lower back. Neither of them get carded and they're able to find a secluded table away from the other patrons.

  


"Now was that so hard?" he taunts.

  


"No, _dad_ , it was totally painless."

  


He narrows his eyes at her, but lets the comment roll easily from his mind as a man in an apron approaches the table to take their orders. Annie gets a basket of chicken fingers, fries, and a cherry daiquiri. Jeff gets a salad and a scotch.

  


"So what's the deal with your manager?" he asks as their waiter darts away to put in their order.

  


As he expects, Annie instantly becomes animated. "Oh God, he knows Britta. They went to high school together." Jeff perks up, storing that information away to take advantage of later. "He's always leaving me alone to smoke joints in the back, and he hits on _everyone_ that comes into the store."

  


"He didn't hit on me." Jeff points out.

  


"Poor Jeff's ego." Annie pushes out her lower lip in a mocking pout.

  


The waiter comes back and silently slides their drinks on the table. Jeff takes a sip of his and Annie fiddles with her straw. "I'm just saying: if ever there were a person worthy of flirtation to enter a bookstore, it'd be me."

  


"People who like books aren't gross cretins, Jeff." Annie sucks down a few gulps of her drink and eyes him suspiciously. "Do you think I'm gross?"

  


"God, no." Jeff snorts without thinking.

  


She perks up in response. "You think I'm goooorgeous," she heckles. "You wanna kiss me."

  


"Okay, Miss Congeniality. Do I need to cut you off already?"

  


In response, Annie takes the straw out of her daiquiri and gulps most of the liquid right out of the glass. "Just try." She smirks belligerently.

  


"Marry me." Jeff jokes.

  


Annie’s face clouds. "You know, marriage isn't something you should take lightly. You can't just throw around proposals willy-nilly."

  


It doesn't take a genius to realize she's talking about his insane stint with Britta before the summer. "Noted." Jeff concedes. "Does it help if I say I'm sorry, and that I know fear is the wrong reason to commit to someone?"

  


"A little," she admits after a prolonged silence.

  


Their waiter comes back then, carrying their food on a large, round platter. "Might I get you anything else?"

  


"More alcohol, please!" Annie holds up her nearly-empty glass. "Oh! And extra napkins."

  


"Sure thing, miss." The waiter winks at her before heading back to the bar, and Jeff bristles. To keep himself from saying something stupid or offensive, he knocks back his glass of scotch.

  


They're both quiet as they dig into their respective meals, Jeff stealing the occasional fry from Annie's basket and Annie gratefully accepting the cherry tomatoes from Jeff's salad. The waiter comes back with a refill for both their drinks.

  


It's Annie who eventually breaks the silence. "I wanna leave Greendale having done something that matters."

  


She's closely observing the hole in her straw, her eyes sad and droopy. Caroline's come to hang out after all, Jeff notes.

  


"Making lifelong friends doesn't matter?"

  


Annie purses her lips, which draws Jeff's attention to them. His eyes linger, fixated on the texture and color, before he meets her vibrant blue eyes.

  


"That matters to me," she finally says. "But I want to do something that'll matter to more than just me, you know?"

  


"Look, I think you know by now that I don't believe in the whole ‘Man Is Great’ narrative. I think trying to leave a lasting mark on the world is a pointless and empty fixation because—even if you achieve some degree of success—your contributions will all fade eventually. If anything, people are remembered more for evil deeds than greatness. How else do you explain Hitler?"

  


"Your outlook is peachy, Nietzsche." She falls apart laughing at her own joke.

  


"Are you done? I had a point."

  


"Depress me." Annie waves her hand to suggest he should continue.

  


"As I was saying, doing something that matters is meaningless. You trying to make Greendale an option for future outcasts, freaks, and crazies, however, is not. You're going to make it happen, Annie."

  


"Awww," she drawls, a sappy look on her face. "Sweet Jeff should come out to compliment me more often."

  


Jeff laughs. "We'll see."

  


"How do I make it happen, though?" Annie goes back to pouting. "I love Greendale, but it hasn't exactly given me a lot to work with. I need to show potential donors the place has a positive impact on the people who attend."

  


"We should just put your transcripts on display." he jokes.

  


She slams the table suddenly, making him jump. "Student showcase!" When he stares blankly at her, Annie elaborates. "We get our best students and a bunch of rich people in one room to schmooze. There can be a formal presentation component, too. It'll be perfect."

  


"If you can find enough students worthy of showcasing," he qualifies. But Jeff likes the idea.

  


"In the right lighting, anything can look impressive."

  


Jeff grins. He wants to take credit for the devious workings of Annie's mind, but she had a dark side before she met him. And he loves it. "I'll drink to that." He holds out his glass.

  


Annie clinks her own against it and calls out "L'chaim!"

  


"L'chaim!" he repeats.

  


In the end, they have to call Shirley to drive them home. She dutifully walks Annie up to her apartment, and then does the same for Jeff, carrying his shopping bags while he fumbles for his keys.

  


He settles in bed as soon as she leaves, but his mind is buzzing with half-formed thoughts. He decides to read into the night, only stopping when his eyes ache painfully with the effort of staying open.

  


And, yeah, he ends up liking Park's mom, too.


	2. 1b of 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Spoilers:** If you've watched through s5, nothing should be spoiled for you.  
>  **Word Count:** 6,380  
>  **Disclaimer:** These characters belong to Dan Harmon, etc., etc. I simply enjoy manipulating them.  
>  **Author's Note:** Once again, heartfelt and endless appreciation goes to my magnificent beta: bethanyactually. The title for this story comes from a Four Star Mary song called "She Knows."

Normally when Annie Edison is given a day off from school, she uses it to organize and code her notes or get ahead on the assigned readings.

Today she's driving nearly an hour to some secluded picnic spot to meet Dom.

She can't help but wonder if her need for attention is so potent that she would put off important study time and spend an inordinate amount of money on gas to meet with a guy she has lukewarm feelings about. Annie wants to believe that this is a sign she likes Dom a lot more than she thinks, instead.

But if she's being honest, she knows it's neither her need for attention nor her affection for Dom that got her to agree to the trip.

Her GPS, and the address Dom provided, leads her to a dirt road, which spits out into a gravel parking lot, a few miles off the freeway exit. There are some scattered cars, but Annie is able to pick out Dom's rust-colored Buick easily. She pulls up beside him, and his head snaps up at the noise. He's out of his car and opening her door more quickly than should be possible.

"How was your drive?" he asks politely as she gathers the blanket, cut strawberries, and cookies she brought from the passenger seat.

"Okay. I listened to some of my recorded lectures. How are you?"

"Happy to see you." He smiles wide and gathers her into a hug encumbered by all the things she’s carrying. He pulls back quickly. “Here, let me help you with those.” He takes the containers of cookies and strawberries and pops the trunk of his car.

A well-used picnic basket is nestled among a gym bag, an emergency preparedness kit, and some golf clubs. Dom deposits Annie’s contributions into it before hefting the basket out of the trunk.

“You really like to stay active, huh?”

He starts leading the way down one of the trails: “Mind, body, and soul.”

Annie snorts reflexively and immediately feels bad when Dom gives her a wounded glance. “Oh, uh, are you religious?”

“Well I haven’t been to temple in a really long time, but, yeah, I’m Jewish.”

“No way,” Annie bobs her head excitedly. “I’m Jewish! I had no idea.”

“Maybe we could attend a service together sometime. You know, if you’re into that.” he suggests shyly.

“That could be nice.” She tries to picture telling her friends about Dom, about their second date being at a temple. “Shirley’s going to _love_ you.”

“She’s from your study group, right?” Annie nods. “You’re thinking about introducing me to your friends.”

He’s so pleased by the idea that she doesn’t mention the thoughts were not necessarily pleasant.

They walk the rest of the way in a fairly comfortable silence. Dom casually frees one hand and slips his fingers between Annie’s. His hands have a rough texture, but they’re warm and soft so she doesn’t protest.

The trail they’re on breaks into a clearing with several picnic tables and charcoal grills. They’re at a high altitude, and the edge of the meadow drops off at a sharp angle. Where there isn’t a dense wall of trees, there’s a picturesque view of some mountain-y hills. Annie is immediately drawn to the edge of the cliff.

“It’s gorgeous.” she notes, pulling her phone from the pocket of her cardigan to snap a few pictures.

“I like to come here before big events.” Dom admits. “This is my good luck spot.” She can feel him watching her, expecting some kind of reaction to his grand gesture. She stops taking pictures and turns to smile gratefully at him. “Hey! We should get a picture together.” He suggests.

Amiably, Annie nods and they turn so the landscape is behind them. Dom gently takes Annie’s phone and holds it out so that their faces are framed by the lush green in the background.

“Perfect.” Annie examines the photos and picks her favorite. She sends it to Dom and then posts it on her Instagram account.

“So have you talked to Dr. Floyd since the program?” he asks as they spread Annie’s blanket out on the ground and settle in for their picnic.

“Here and there. He edited one of my Legal Writing assignments and I’ve just been generally trying to keep in touch.”

“Same here. Rumor has it he’s going to need a new research assistant soon. I would kill for that position.”

“Oh, man.” Annie’s eyes widen. “What I wouldn’t give to work with that man five days a week,” she sighs wistfully.

“Right? Remember when he played Sherlock in the talent show the first night of camp? How fitting!”

She and Dom reminisce about camp while they eat through their supply of food. They move on to talking about school, Dom talks about his family, and Annie regales him with some of the crazier misadventures she’s gone on with the group.

“So they’re really like your family, huh? You don’t talk to your real folks?”

Annie stiffens at his word choice. “The study group is my real family.”

“Why won’t you tell me what happened between you and your mom?”

Annie bites back her insistence that it’s none of his business. “Because it’s really personal, and I don’t know if I can trust you yet.” Her voice comes across more coyly than she intends, but it works to divert Dom’s attention.

Dom grins slyly. “I suppose I’ll just have to earn the story then.”

She nods and digs the chocolate chips out of her cookie. “I suppose so.”

An unexpected breeze blows through the clearing, causing Annie to shiver.

As if he’s taking cues from an old, black and white movie, Dom removes his jacket and drapes it around Annie’s shoulders. She looks up from her cookie to offer him a smile, but Dom’s face is closer than she expects. It catches her off guard because there was no emotional momentum leading to the moment. They were just two friends having a conversation.

But Dom’s mind is definitely not on friendship.

He leans into her personal space, lips puckered, and presses his mouth gently against hers. Annie gasps lightly. Dom, taking that as encouragement, starts kissing Annie in earnest. She opens her eyes and watches the way Dom uses his entire face to kiss her. And, yes, she’s kissing him back, but only to keep the situation from getting more awkward than it needs to be.

Her mind and heart are back at Greendale.

###

Jeff's been staring at the picture for the better part of twenty minutes and is pouring himself a generous glass of scotch when the first text message arrives.

Britta: _did you see!?!!? looks like Annie's got a new boy toy._

Jeff groans and knocks back a huge gulp of alcohol. It burns his nose and throat, making his face tingle unpleasantly.

 _Dont b gross_ , he texts back.

 _i'm not, that's a good looking dude. Go Annie!_ Britta's response comes almost immediately. Jeff polishes off his glass and pours another drink.

"Go Annie." Jeff raises his glass sarcastically and guzzles the contents.

Moments later, a message from Shirley lights up his phone: _So happy for Annie; did you see her picture?_

He has to work tomorrow, and it's inadvisable to pour himself another drink. But it's not like Jeff hasn't taught classes hungover before, and he can always dust off his Planet Earth DVDs.

Annie's face bubbles to the surface of his mind, looking disappointed in him. But he represses the stomach-twisting guilt and ditches his glass in favor of swigging scotch right from the bottle.

Abed texts then: _I think Annie's dating outside the group; not sure how viewers are going to respond._

Jeff ponders replying to Shirley or Abed, but everything his mind comes up with is petty and scathingly jealous. He doesn't even want to think about the boy toy anymore, so he turns off his phone and spends most of the night staring into space, moping, and getting wasted.

###

Annie paces the study room nervously. There’s still more than a half hour before the Save Greendale Committee is meeting to welcome back Professor Duncan, but she's called Shirley and Britta to come in early.

She groans upon checking her watch, only a few seconds having passed since the last time she’d checked.

She feels an anxious, shrill scream building in the back of her throat when Shirley and Britta finally breeze into the room, laughing jovially.

“Where have you two been?” Annie bites off the ends of her words and crosses her arms over her chest.

Shirley sets a tray of brownies in the center of the desk and takes her seat, eyeing Annie with concern.

Britta throws a carton of gummy worms on the table and snorts. “I thought getting a new boyfriend would help _ease_ your tension. Does he not know where the clit is? Cause I’ve had to teach a fair share of guys ab—”

“God, Britta, please stop talking.” Annie barely resists covering her ears with the palms of her hands. “Wait, how did you know about Dom?”

“Oooh,” Shirley sing-songs. “His name is Dom.”

“Your Instagram, duh-doy.”

Annie relaxes for a second before her anxieties kick into double gear. “ _Ohmigod_ , I posted that picture! Oh crap. Oh crap.”

“An-nie,” Shirley lilts, “what’s wrong, sweetie?”

She takes a second to gather herself before joining the other two at the table. Instead of answering Shirley’s question directly, Annie starts giving them the backstory. “I met Dom at caper camp over the summer. He knew some of the other kids from conferences and seminars and stuff, and he helped me feel really welcome.” She has Shirley and Britta’s rapt attention. “And the last week we were there Dom, two other people, and I were chosen to work personally with Dr. Floyd. Anyway, we got pretty close, and he basically wore a big, neon sign over his head that spelled out ‘Interested’.”

“He sounds really sweet, Annie.” Britta flashes her a thumbs up in a rare moment of agreeability.

“He is,” Annie allows, about to soldier on.

But Shirley adds. “And he is a fine-looking white boy.”

“I’m not really into the wholesome, white-bread look, but he has pretty adorable dimples.” Britta agrees.

“Guys!” Annie whines. “He wants to make you all dinner this Saturday, and I’m kind of freaking out about it.”

They both look at her like she just told them she’s going to marry Chang.

It’s Britta who finally asks, bluntly, “Why?”

“Oh, come on.” Annie hardly believes she has to spell this out. “You know as well as I do how this group reacts to outside love interests.”

“You’ve been living with Abed too long.” Shirley shakes her head.

Annie can’t hold back her growl of frustration. “Rich, Andre, Professor Slater,” she starts ticking off the names, “Vaughn, _twice_.”

“Okay, okay,” Britta concedes, “point taken. But, look, you’ve told me and Shirley, and we haven’t freaked out about it.”

“There are other members of our group,” Annie offers defiantly, pointedly avoiding specific names.

“And, as long as you’re happy, they’ll have to deal,” Britta states with a note of finality. “And if they don’t, I’ll annoy them with fake diagnoses till they submit.”

Touched by the adamancy in her voice, Annie wavers. “Thanks, Britta.”

“What are sisters for?”

Annie reaches across the table to grasp Britta’s hands and leans into Shirley who lovingly runs a hand over Annie’s hair.

The moment dissolves as Abed and Chang push through the doors.

"So anyway," Chang waves his hands around, obviously in the middle of a story. "They never told me what bra size best fits my figure. I smell racism, and I think you and I should sue."

They plop into their seats, and Abed stares blankly at Chang. "You said you're about five-five?"

"Five feet, five and a half inches," Chang clarifies. "I think the half an inch is a gift from Darwin for eating my twin in utero."

"Ew," Annie interjects. "And that's not how evolution works."

Chang shrugs, unbothered.

"You'd fit pretty well in a Blorgon costume. There's a con over winter break. We could go."

"Awesome!" Chang jumps out of his chair. "Inclusion! Do I get to carry around a laser?"

Abed shakes his head. "Under no circumstances."

Disappointed, Chang falls back into his chair.

Annie, after glancing at her watch and noting there’s only a few minutes to meeting time, drops her overloaded binder on the table in front of her and passes out the unusually short agenda to everyone at the table. Chang produces several tiny bags of chips, clearly purchased from a vending machine on campus. Abed pulls hummus and pita chips from his backpack to add to the food pile in the center of the table.

“Has anyone seen Jeff?” Annie asks.

“I’m sure he’s just taking his sweet time getting here.” Britta grumbles. “That man never changes. He couldn’t be on time to save his life.”

Annie bites her lip and stares at Jeff’s empty chair, unsatisfied with Britta’s explanation. Jeff might be self-centered and moody, but he’s never blown off a Save Greendale meeting.

She’s still thinking circles in her head when Dean Pelton pops into the room. Following him is a thinner, haggard-looking Professor Duncan. His hair is longer than usual, patchy scruff covers his face, his skin resembles that of an onion—dull and papery—and his eyes look like they’ve sunken into his face.

“Professor Duncan,” The group choruses weakly. Everyone seems shocked and unsure how to proceed.

Annie stands to pull out the seat next to Jeff’s usual place at the table. “Welcome back,” she greets warmly, recovering more quickly than the others.

After an awkward silence, Abed pipes up. “You look terrible.”

“Bite me.”

“Well, I’ve got to make some phone calls.” The dean starts backing out of the room. “I will _dean_ you all later.”

“Okay,” Annie squeaks, hurriedly glancing at every member of the group for a conversation starter.

Britta pipes up. “Professor Duncan’s been through a trauma; irritability is to be expected.” She reaches for one of Duncan’s hands, clasping it between her own and scrunching her nose in distaste before moving on. “If there is anything we can help you with during this difficult time, don’t hesitate to ask.”

“I drank too much. I’m not some cancer survivor,” Duncan points out. But he doesn’t really seem to mind Britta’s attention. “This is a very…Greendale welcome, though. Thank you.”

The groups nods in acknowledgement and then falls silent again. No one seems to know what to say, and Annie keeps glancing at the door, expecting Jeff to swoop in and be charming and facilitate the welcome back for _his_ old friend.

“So,” Shirley stumbles, “are you feeling better?”

“I feel as though someone butt-fucked my throat and stomach and then unleashed a nuclear bomb in my head. But, yeah, feelin’ peachy.” Shirley’s lip curls in distaste and Britta extracts her hand from between Duncan's.

“So are you going back to teaching?” Annie tries.

“I honestly can’t think of a better way to drive myself to drink again, but yes. I’m taking on a few classes and I hope to start a new research project.”

“Oh!” Britta pipes up. “If you need an extra set of hands and another alcohol-soaked brain, I’m available! I’ve never used an Independent Study credit to actually do work before, but I’ve been feeling kind of ambitious.”

Everyone around the table giggles, but Duncan smiles his genuine leering smile. “Excellent. Come by my office tomorrow and we can talk about it.”

Britta pumps her fist and then grabs a tiny bag of Doritos, courtesy of Chang. Shirley unwraps her tray of brownies and everyone at the table takes one, the group settling into an easier silence.

As they munch, Duncan notices the glaring absence and asks, “Where’s Winger?”

“That’s the million-dollar question,” Annie sighs. She stares dejectedly at the door as she goes over the agenda, but he never shows.

###

A threatening _SLAM!_ jolts Jeff awake with a surge of adrenaline. An ache reverberates through his head; it’s as though someone has been using his temple as a gong. “Gah,” he groans. His lower back protests as he sits up in his desk chair, and there’s an unglamorous pool of drool on the weathered wood grain where his head had been resting. His eyes feel crusty and his tongue is the consistency of cotton.

“Are you _drunk_?”

Jeff wonders idly if his subconscious is playing tricks again, presenting Annie as his voice of reason. But she’s never quite so shrill in his head.

“I can take care of myself,” he grumbles defiantly.

“I can see that.” The bleariness of Jeff’s eyes dissipates just in time for him to see her pick up and examine the bottle of scotch he hadn’t realized was still out on his desk. “You missed Professor Duncan’s welcome. What gives?”

Jeff grunts. He’s been drunk since seven the night before. He forgot all about it.

“I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s wrong,” she prods, sounding put out.

It makes him feel like a chore, all emotional baggage and inability to talk.

The alcohol stirs Jeff’s anger, and the picture of Annie and Boy Toy floats to the surface of his mind.

“Well, Annie,” he infuses as much bite into his words as he can, but they fumble on his cottony tongue. “What’s wrong is I’m an adult, and sometimes adults get drunk and hate their lives. I’m sure you’ll understand someday.”

“Either talk about what’s bothering you or don’t, but you don’t get to patronize me. I’m not the problem.”

 _No, your stupid, muscular boyfriend is_ , Jeff thinks.

When he doesn’t say anything out loud, Annie throws her hands in the air and turns on her heel for the door.

“Hey!” he calls to stop her when he realizes she’s still fisting the bottle of his scotch. “That’s my alcohol.”

“Yeah.” She’s pissed; he sees it in the intensity of her eye contact and the arch of her brow. It makes him cower. “I know.”

Annie slams the door on her way back out of his office. Jeff winces in pain and lets his head fall back onto his desk.

###

Annie and Abed are sitting in the counter chairs while Dom flits around their kitchen preparing baked chicken breasts, seasoned asparagus, and wild rice. She’s asked countless times if he wants her help, but apparently Dom can be as controlling as she is because he will not let Annie touch a thing.

Without something to focus on, she’s a nervous wreck. She had spent all morning alphabetizing her personal library, organizing the coat closet by color, and cleaning the bathroom. Abed had intervened with a cheap bottle of wine before she could touch his movie collection.

He pours them both a second glass now, grumbling about how buttered noodles smell much better than whatever’s in the oven. “Pizza is also a time-honored classic,” he points out to Dom.

“Yes, but anyone can call and order a pizza. I want to show you guys how awesome I am.” Dom flashes Annie a smile so sweet it could easily give a girl a sugar rush.

“Nothing says awesome like paying for pizza,” Abed comments glumly, corking the bottle of wine and taking a generous sip from his glass.

“Abed,” Annie warns, the wine coating her nerves so that what would normally be a high-pitched reprimand comes out as a low growl. “Please let it go.”

“Okay, but I just want it noted that my first impression is dismal at best. He’s too pretty; so obviously a network TV guy brought in to give us mainstream appeal. He has no characterization beyond Annie’s Love Interest, and this is going to knock Jeff’s character development back into season two.”

“Am I supposed to understand what any of this means?” Dom cocks his head quizzically.

“No,” Annie assures him, reaching over the counter to pat his head affectionately. “Just keep on being pretty.”

“For mainstream appeal?” Dom clarifies.

“Apparently,” Annie giggles. She takes another sip of wine, just on the right side of tipsy. Her brain feels softer, all her senses are on five-second delay, and she’s untouchable here. She pokes Abed in the side until he turns to look at her. “Have you noticed Jeff acting weirder lately?”

Abed narrows his eyes as if rewinding through weeks of camera footage, searching. “A little. But everything’s been weird since Troy left.”

Annie nods empathetically, clucking her tongue for emphasis. “I loved Pierce, but he found a way to suck even after death.” Abed snorts in response.

“Annie!” Dom seems shocked.

“It’s okay,” Abed assures him. “Pierce was our old, rich, racist friend. We can say bad things about him because we put up with him longer than anyone in recorded history.”

Dom seems unconvinced but goes back to tending the meal with a shrug.

Annie leans closer to Abed, gripping his shoulder to keep her balance. “I think Jeff has a drinking problem,” she confides. “I know he told everyone that he had the flu, but he missed Duncan’s welcome because he was drunk.” Abed looks like he wants to say something, but glances over at Dom and decides against it.

Annie’s about to say something else, but she’s cut short by a knock at the door. “Come in!” she calls. “Door’s open.”

Britta saunters in, uncharacteristically early. She plunks a couple of mostly empty bottles of alcohol on the counter and slings her purse on the back of Annie’s chair. “Hey homeslices, I brought some whiskey and vodka.”

“What’s the latest plot, Britta-bot?”

Britta raises an eyebrow at Annie’s rhyming greeting.

“We started early because Annie was nervous cleaning and about to touch my movies.” Abed explains, holding up the bottle of wine.

“Cool.” Britta unscrews the cap off the vodka and takes a swig.

“You must be Britta,” Dom interjects, holding out his hand for a shake.

“What makes you say that?” Britta puckers her lips, prepared to be defiant.

“Annie described you as her cool, blonde friend. So, deductive reasoning, mostly.”

Britta finally takes Dom’s hand, smiling slickly. “Nice to meet you, Dom.”

Annie recognizes the seductive edge to Britta’s leer and is surprised by the lump of jealousy that lodges in her throat. She sips her wine and bites her tongue.

Shirley and Jeff arrive together shortly after. As he’s been doing for the past week, Jeff avoids making direct eye contact with Annie. Shirley’s carrying a cake platter.

Annie clumsily slips off her seat to give Shirley a hug.

“Hello, Jeff,” she greets formally.

“Annie” He acknowledges her with a nod, but his eyes are fixed somewhere to the left of her. She feels an unbidden lurch of her heart.

Refusing to dwell, she grabs Shirley’s hand. “Come meet Dom.” She skips toward the kitchen. “Shirley, Dom; Dom, Shirley.”

Dom wipes his hand on a kitchen towel before offering it. “Shirley, you’re every bit as lovely as Annie said.” Then he raises the back of her hand to his lips and kisses lightly.

Annie’s pretty sure she hears Jeff gag. “Bleh. Is that whiskey? I don’t even care; just give it to me.”

“Oh, I like him.” Shirley coos, patting Annie on the shoulder before storing her cake in the refrigerator.

“You’re two for three so far,” Annie whispers as Shirley trots out of the kitchen, giving Dom a thumbs up.

“Who doesn’t like me?” Dom pouts.

“Abed really likes pizza. It’s going to take a while for you to make this up to him,” Annie teases, picking up a spoon and idly twirling it.

“Oh, well, as long as I still have a shot,” Dom grins and bops her on the nose.

Annie doesn’t know if she’s drunk, paranoid, or actually that hyperaware of Jeff Winger, but she swears she feels his gaze boring into her back.

“How long till dinner?” she asks, shaking the feeling from her mind.

“A few minutes. Wanna set the table?”

Annie half jokes, half answers sincerely, “Would I ever? You sure know the way to a girl’s heart, Dominick Fink.” She collects plates, silverware, and napkins before leaning in to kiss Dom's cheek. He looks her right in the eye, his face radiantly happy.

Confusingly, it makes her hands quiver and her stomach knot. Annie looks away and scurries off toward the table.

###

Jeff hates that the food is good. The chicken is tender, and the rice is so mouth-watering that, despite his carb count for the day, Jeff takes a second helping.

Let him get fat. He doesn't even care.

He hates that Dom is friendly and personable and that even Abed relents his pizza-and-noodle nagging after an hour in the guy's presence.

What Jeff hates the most, though, is the way Dom looks at Annie.

Because he can see that Dom really cares about her.

It would be so much simpler if Dom were an asshole.

Jeff pours himself a second glass of whiskey and diet soda (heavy on the whiskey) as Annie and Dom—sickeningly compatible as hosts—clear the table.

"I like him," Shirley whispers conspiratorially when the sink turns on in the kitchen.

"We know; we heard you all million times," Jeff snaps. Shirley cocks an eyebrow at him in warning. Jeff swishes back a gulp of his drink.

"I like him, too." Britta hops on the approval train. "He can't keep his hands to himself and he's been making googly eyes all night. I mean, it makes me sick when a guy's that into me, but he's just right for Annie."

Jeff groans dramatically. "Can we talk about anything else?"

The girls eye him suspiciously, but Abed comes to his rescue. Kind of. "He's nice enough, but I'd like to test his drift compatibility with the group." Jeff, Shirley, and Britta stare blankly. "I think playing Dungeons and Dragons would alienate Dom, so I propose a game of GURPS."

Annie comes back to the table with a glass of water then. "We're playing a game?" she asks excitedly.

Abed nods. "Of GURPS."

"Burps?" Britta asks, wrinkling her nose in skepticism.

Abed rolls his eyes and Dom rejoins the table. Jeff notices he has a glass of wine and immediately jumps to the worst possible conclusion: no driving back to Denver. Dom has to be spending the night.

"Generic Universal Role-Playing System," Abed clarifies, cutting into Jeff's thoughts. "I made everyone a character sheet last night."

"Cool," Dom replies amiably, reaching for the sheet Abed hands him.

"Aww," Annie complains. "No Hector the Well-Endowed?"

Dom chokes on his wine. "Excuse me?"

"It's my established D&D character."

To Dom's credit, he simply nods along as if he understands what that means.

"I made a similar character for you," Abed assures her, sliding a piece of paper across the table.

"Helena the Buxom?" Annie reads. "I think I'm offended."

" _Abed_ ," Shirley scolds, motherly disappointment coloring her tone.

"I'm _definitely_ offended," Britta huffs. "Women have been defined by the shape of their bodies for too long."

"Well this takes place in the past, so it's historically accurate," Jeff snaps, not missing the way Dom's eyes were drawn to Annie's cleavage at the word _buxom_.

"It's a fantasy world, so real history doesn't apply," Britta counters testily. "And I choose to expect better for women. Even fictional women."

"Well," Annie cuts in loudly, eyes on her character sheet, "I have a giant sword, so I'm clearly empowered."

"Penis metaphor," Britta grumbles.

"I think you'll like your character, Britta," Abed brings the group's attention back.

"Penelope the Proletariat," Britta reads. "Awesome." She gives Abed a high five.

"Give her free reign to complain in character, why don't you?" Annie says exactly what Jeff’s thinking.

"I'm being oppressed!" Britta says, sticking her tongue out at Annie.

Dom, who's been watching the group banter, chimes in, "I'm Kyle, apparently. A gnome."

"Kyle!" Most of the group cheers.

Jeff sips his drink sullenly, but decides to throw the confused Dom a bone. "He was a side character when we played D&D for the first time. Abed's not always the most creative, so recycling is a must."

Dom nods, smiling gratefully. Jeff musters up a tense smirk before his eyes are drawn to Annie. She's watching him, and it's the first time he's met her gaze head-on in what feels like years. Her eyes are so wide and blue and her mouth curves up just slightly at the ends in a soft grin.

It makes his fingers tingle with the need to stroke back her hair and he has to look away again.

"Oooh," Shirley purrs, finding her own character sheet. "I'm Clarisse the Cleric. I have all the healing powers of the Lord."

"Of _a_ lord," Abed corrects her. "These characters would likely be polytheistic."

"I'll make your ass polytheistic," Shirley threatens.

"Alright," Jeff cuts in. "Let me see mine." Abed slides the last paper over to Jeff. "Charleston the Charming. Can I just say that alliteration doesn’t improve your dismal naming abilities?"

"I like my name," Britta objects.

"You have the best speech capabilities of all the characters," Abed points out, as if that'll assuage Jeff's irritation.

"How do we start?" Dom looks around quizzically. "Like, don't we need a board or something?"

"Nope." Abed doesn't offer any more explanation. "Allow me to set the scene. You've all been summoned to the town of Merriweather by an anonymous letter. The letter explains that a troupe of organized thieves is planning to plunder a cave just outside the Merriweather limits. The cave hides the Helm of Merriweather and maps that disclose the locations of the other pieces of the coveted Merriweather armor. The writer of the letter has called upon you for your unique talents; they want you to stop the troupe and save Merriweather. Little do you know, however, that your fellow travel companions have been called for the same task. You've just stepped off the boat, and Merriweather is several miles inland. Penelope, what will you do?"

"Oh, me first." Britta glances at her sheet, lips pursed in concentration. "Do we have money? I want to tip the workers on the boat."

"Of course you do," Annie slumps in her seat.

"You have meager savings; just enough to secure a room in the Merriweather Inn."

"Oh, well, I'm sure I can bunk with one of my buddies. Penelope gives all her money to the boat's workers."

"Of course she does," Jeff rolls his eyes.

Abed rolls a die. "The workers are enraged by your presumptuous charity. Grumpy from months at sea, they attack."

"Can we leave Penelope behind?" Annie asks.

Britta gasps, affronted. "Why don't you make yourself useful and calm down the workers with your buxomness?"

"Because that's gross," Annie snarls. "I swing my sword at the nearest attacker."

Abed rolls. "It's a hit! Helena beheads the orc charging Penelope."

"You're welcome." Annie lilts, enjoying her superiority as Britta grumbles under her breath.

And they're off. It takes Dom several turns to get used to the game, but once he does, it's clear he's Annie-like in his ability to strategize. They take charge of the group, flirtily running ideas past one another as the group draws near to the stupid cave.

Watching them make such a good team gives Jeff a complex. Plus, every one of his ideas gets them attacked, snubbed, or—thanks to an especially bad roll—lands them in jail. He's on edge, he's unhappy, and by the end of the night he's quite drunk.

"Having successfully cleared the giant spiders and skeletons, you head on through the passageway at the back of the room."

"Are there any side passages?" Annie asks.

"Two."

"We should split up and search them both for loot," Dom suggests.

"Penelope, Kyle, and Clarisse go down one. Helena and Charleston go down the other."

Jeff glances at Annie from under his eyelashes.

She's flushed, expectantly watching Abed roll the dice.

"There's a locked chest at the end of Helena and Charleston's passage."

"Ooh!" Annie exclaims. "Do you have any lock picks?" She raises a questioning eyebrow at Jeff.

"Yes. I try to unlock the chest," Jeff offers blandly.

Abed rolls. "Charleston unlocks the chest, but breaks a pick in the process." Unsurprised, Jeff alters the list of supplies on his character sheet.

"What loot did they score?" Dom questions.

"Inside the chest," Abed explains obligingly, "you find twenty gold pieces, three lock picks, an axe enchanted to do fire damage, and a coded journal."

Dom and Annie fist bump, and Jeff can't help but feel that bump rightfully belongs to him.

"I search the journal for clues on how to decode it."

"There are none, but there is a readable inscription that says 'Ye of soaring intellect and courageous heart, gather the secrets of the page to find start'."

"The first map?" Dom guesses. Abed nods. "Well, we need to decode it!"

"Hold it," Jeff butts into the Annie and Dom show. "We know our quest. We're supposed to be catching up with the thieves."

"Yeah, but we can split up. Obey the letter _and_ find all the armor," Dom has a competitive glint in his eye.

"That's dumb," Jeff snaps.

"Jeffery," Shirley warns.

"No," He's pissed and he's not going to be placated. "It's 11:30. Let's just complete the fucking quest and go home."

Annie scoffs. "If you're not having fun, Jeff, you can leave whenever you want. We're not keeping you hostage."

He turns to Annie, his nostrils flared. Her words instantly cause a pressure behind his eyes, and he's worried he might start tearing up. She recoils at his expression but doesn't take back what she said. "Fine then. Enjoy your stupid game. I hope you're all eaten."

Jeff makes it down to the street before he remembers Shirley was his ride.

He debates the merits of walking home versus swallowing his pride and going back upstairs.

He's about to set out on foot when Shirley materializes beside him. "I had to say goodbye to everyone," she explains. He nods and they walk the short distance to her van.

They ride in silence for a few minutes, Jeff pensively staring out the window and Shirley humming the beginning bars of Daybreak.

Finally, she asks, "Do you want to talk about it?"

He's about to say no, but something trips up his tongue. Maybe it's the alcohol, maybe it's the pressure of the past week weighing on his mind, or maybe it's the fact that Shirley bothered to ask in the first place. Whatever the reason, his 'no' warps into a "Yes" on the way out of his mouth.

Shirley waits for him continue. When he doesn't she asks, "Do you want to talk about it with me?"

Jeff chuckles humorlessly. "I'm just…bad at the opening up thing. I don't know where to begin."

"Obviously something is weighing on your mind. You can start by telling me what it is."

Jeff considers this. He's silent for a few prolonged moments before it's all too much and a question agitatedly explodes out of him. "Would it really be that bad?"

Shirley takes her eyes off the road to glance over at him. "I'm going to need more than that."

He nods, knowing this, and pauses to organize his thoughts. "Ever since Annie and I were debate partners, everyone in the group has made a big deal out of us being partnered up in any way. What I want to know is, would it really be that bad? Annie and me. Together."

It's Shirley's turn to be pensive and silent. He can tell she's not talking because she's trying to decide how to deliver an answer he doesn't want to hear.

Jeff decides to give her more to mull over, getting it all out in the open. "I'm in love with her." He pauses. And just in case, he clarifies his statement. "I'm in love with Annie."

Shirley blinks rapidly, dumbfounded.

"I am," Jeff asserts. "When we were trapped in Borchert's Lab, I finally realized what I've been denying for years. I love Annie. I love her, and it opened the door." Now that he's said the L-word out loud, it just keeps coming, more insistent every time. "I love how smart she is. I love how fucking earnest she is all the time. I love that she's crazy and crazy ambitious. She makes me feel alive and decent just by being in the same room. She makes me a better person, and I love her."

Jeff lets out a big, huffing breath.

Shirley places a comforting hand on his knee. "When we first met Annie, she was starting fresh in the world. She'd already been through a lot, but she was sweet and young." Jeff doesn't argue, just waits for Shirley's point. "I'm a big enough person to admit I made some snap judgements about what a relationship between you and Annie would look like, about your motivations. But we've known each other for a long time now. And you're both mature adults. So, to answer your question: no, it wouldn't be that bad."

A ball of pressure releases in Jeff's throat, and he feels like he can breathe more easily than he has in a while.

" _But_ ," Shirley continues, "if you really, truly love her—and she's happy with Dom—you need to leave that girl be. Love is selfless, Jeff. And you were behaving selfishly back there." She squeezes his knee reassuringly before turning into the parking lot of his building.

He gets out of the van and walks around to the driver's side to give Shirley a hug. "Thanks for listening."

"Anytime." She places a loving hand on his cheek. "Think about what I said?"

He nods, and she drives off, satisfied.

Jeff trudges up the stairs to his floor, thinking about what Shirley said.

He does rounds of sit-ups and pushups, thinking about what Shirley said.

He nearly falls asleep in the shower, thinking about what Shirley said.

And, finally, he crawls into his cold, lonely bed, unable to stop thinking about what Shirley said.


	3. 1c of 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Word Count:** 5,750  
>  **Disclaimer:** These characters belong to Dan Harmon, etc., etc. I simply enjoy manipulating them.  
>  **Author's Note:** My beta, bethanyactually, has been integral to the development of this story and I honestly love her for being so awesome.  
>  This chapter is fairly light on the J/A action, but I promise to make up for that in excess.

Annie rolls over in her bed and feels consciousness drip through her body, slowly drawing her away from sleep. The apartment is warm and smells like vanilla and for a disorienting second Annie feels twelve again. She's at her parents' house, waking up on a Sunday morning to pancakes and eggs.

As reality comes rushing back, Annie hurriedly sits up in bed. _Dom!_

She's about to rush right out of the room but takes a moment to check herself. Her hair is a mess and her mouth tastes fuzzy and slightly metallic.

After a few, calming breaths, she runs a brush through her hair and chews on a piece of mint gum.

Satisfied that the minty flavor will linger long enough for Annie to get to her toothbrush, she spits the gum into her trash bin and coolly, calmly breezes out of her room.

The foldout couch where Dom spent the night is back in pristine shape, and the blankets are all folded and set to the side.

Annie rounds the corner to the kitchen and sees Dom pouring more batter into a skillet.

"You didn't have to make breakfast, silly." Dom jumps at the sound of her voice and turns to smile warmly. "You have a long drive ahead of you. You should have slept in."

Dom waves a dismissive hand. "This is going to be much better than a couple extra hours of sleep." He assures her, pulling Annie into him for a hug.

"I'm going to forget how to feed myself when you leave," she teases, easily wrapping her arms around his waist and lifting her chin to look him in the eye. "What did you make?"

He pulls away and flips what's in the skillet. "French toast. You like?"

Annie breathes in deeply. "That explains the vanilla. I love."

There's a knock on the door then, and Annie isn't sure who it'd be at 10am. But when she checks the peephole she's unsurprised to find Rachel waiting.

"Abed, your girlfriend's here!" Annie hollers in the general direction of his room as she opens the door. "Hey," she greets Rachel.

Carrying a dirty Starbucks apron and a drink carrier full of coffee, Rachel nods tiredly at Annie. "Do I smell French toast?" She cocks her head.

"Sure do!" Dom calls from the kitchen.

Rachel, noticing him for the first time, jolts. "Who is that?" she whispers.

"My, uh, friend," Annie falters. "Dom."

"Cool," she nods. "Hi! I'm Rachel." The girls approach the kitchen counter, and Rachel hands Annie a paper cup. "A Red Eye for the roommate, complete with a few shots of caramel." Annie hums appreciatively. "Sorry, Dom. I didn't know you'd be here or else I'd've brought something for you."

"No worries. It's nice to meet you. Breakfast will be ready in a moment."

"I'll set the table!" Annie sing-songs, setting down her glass and skipping into the kitchen.

Abed emerges from his room in a hoodie and jeans. "Morning." He nods at everyone, and gives Rachel a peck on the cheek. "How was work?"

"Dismally devoid of Abed."

Abed flashes her an Abed smile and Annie notices that he's more fidgety than usual.

"What's up with you?" Annie retrieves her coffee from the counter. "You haven't even had coffee yet and you're all jittery."

Needing no more invitation than that, Abed explains. "I'm in."

"In what?" Annie and Rachel ask in unison.

"I submitted my documentary of the Greendale commercial shoot to a small film festival in California. It's in the running for a couple awards, and they're going to screen it."

"Abed!" Annie gasps. "That's amazing!"

Rachel flings herself around him and starts jumping up and down.

"Way to go, man," Dom congratulates, transferring the last of the French toast off the skillet and making his way to the table.

"It's in early December. I'm going to have to get special permission to make up all my finals, but this is my first festival." He pauses and the smile melts off his face. "I wish Troy was here."

Rachel rubs a comforting hand across the back of Abed's shoulders. "Maybe he'll get back just in time."

Abed nods. "That's what would happen if we really were a TV show. Deus ex machina style."

Dom breaks up the moment. "Come get some celebratory French toast."

Not needing more prompting than that, everyone settles around the table.

Dom has to hit the road right after breakfast, so Abed and Rachel clear the table and start doing dishes after everyone's had their fill.

"That was the best meal I've had in weeks. This is the least we can do," Rachel assures Dom when he starts to protest.

Annie walks him to his car. "This was a nice weekend." She smiles up at him. "We should see each other again soon."

Dom dumps his duffel bag in the passenger seat and then holds his arms open for Annie to fall into. She does, and he smells like laundry detergent and vanilla extract. "I have something for you."

Curious, Annie pulls away. "What is it?"

He wrenches a simple silver band off one of his fingers and holds it out to her. Annie recognizes it as a class ring. "Will you be my girlfriend?"

It starts as a small titter, but Annie can't help herself. She explodes in a full-blown laughing fit.

"Is this your answer?" Dom asks, hurt, after a minute or so.

"No-" a giggle, "no-" a snort, "I'm sorry-" gasping, "lemme catch my breath."

Dom waits patiently, still holding out the ring.

As soon as she calms down, Annie takes it and slides it on the ring finger of her right hand. "Yes, I'll be your girlfriend," she assures him. "This is just so 1950s." She holds out her hand to examine the band. It's nice and was clearly polished recently. She's as touched as she is weirded out.

Dom shrugs. "I think traditions like that are nice."

Annie smiles and gets on her tip-toes to kiss Dom gently on the lips. He holds her to him and kisses her more insistently.

When they break apart, Annie says, "As long as you don't start referring to me as your property or insist I make you a sandwich, I think it's adorable."

"Yes. This weekend was just a fluke. From now on I demand you make all the meals, feeble woman."

"Okay, okay." Annie gives him a second, shorter kiss, giggling. "You should get going."

Dom checks the time on his phone. "You're right. I'll call you tonight."

Annie nods. "I'll pick up."

"Cool."

"Cool."

He leans in for one last kiss before getting in his car.

Annie watches as the Buick chugs off down the road. She holds her hand to her chest, lazily spinning the just-too-big ring around her finger. She's not sure she'll get used to the weight of it and considers removing it for a moment. But she decides she'll never know if she doesn't keep it on. So she leaves it.

###

Britta has to work on her 34th birthday, so the group meets her at the bar, The Alley Cat, to celebrate.

Annie's been dating Dom for a little over a month, and Jeff's been very gracious about it, thank you very much. Given his good behavior, he thinks he's entitled to some relief that Dom isn't able to make the party.

Annie does bring someone, though.

Coming from her shift at Barnes and Noble, she arrives at The Alley Cat a half hour later than the rest of the group. She approaches the table where Jeff, Chang, Duncan, and Abed are hanging out, and Jeff instantly recognizes the man Annie's trying to out-pace as her manager, White Dreadlocks.

"Hi, guys," Annie greets them. "This is Thorin, my manager." Jeff can tell she's stressed by the way her voice is a little tighter and higher in pitch than usual. "He knows Britta from high school and insisted on tagging along."

Oblivious to Annie's discomfort, Thorin bobs his head aimlessly as a way of greeting. "You can call me Thor." He has a thick and unpleasantly mucus-y voice.

"No way," Abed immediately pipes up. "Thorin is an awesome character and a great name."

"My parents were _Hobbit_ people."

"Your parents are midgets?" Chang asks excitedly.

Thorin stares blankly in Chang's general direction.

"Okay." Annie claps her hands together. "Thor, this is Jeff, Ian, Abed, and Ben Chang." She points each of them out.

"How come you gave him my full name? Now he'll be able to find out where I live and work and stuff."

"Aren't you homeless and unemployed?" Professor Duncan snaps, irritably slouched over a glass of un-spiked coke.

"That's not relevant and only half true." Chang stabs a finger at Duncan.

"Great," Annie squeaks. "Where are Shirley and Dean Pelton?"

"Speak of the _dean_." Dean Pelton is suddenly at Jeff's side, pushing against him in an effort to fit onto the small bench. He flicks his hand effeminately toward Thorin once Jeff and Duncan scooch over. "Craig Pelton, pleased to make your acquaintance. Are those _real_ dreadlocks?"

"Glad you came yet?" Jeff teases. Thorin shrugs, not giving him much to work with. So Jeff focuses his attention on Annie. "Shirley's at the bar." He jerks his head in the direction of the counter where Shirley is distracting Britta.

Annie nods, her face going pale. "I should probably tell Britta about…" Annie trails off and looks meaningfully at Thorin, who seems to be generally unaware.

Grateful for any excuse to extract himself from the dean's aggressive attempts to snuggle, Jeff lightly pushes on Duncan, who gets up to let him out. "I'll come."

Annie doesn't say anything, but she waits as he climbs out from the table.

As they walk away, Thorin takes Jeff's place next to Dean Pelton. "So how'd that happen?" Jeff asks.

"Hmm?" Annie jolts, being pulled from a different thought. "Oh, Thor," she groans. "He remembers Britta's birthday, so when I mentioned that I was going to a friend's birthday party he was all over it." Annie squirms, clearly disturbed.

"Creepy."

"You're telling me."

They get to the counter and Annie gives Shirley a hug.

"Hey, bartender!" Jeff calls, never tiring of ordering Britta around. "More beer!"

"Bite me!" Britta calls from across the room. She's working the regulars, who are already very drunk and insist on doing birthday shots with her every few minutes.

In a flash, though, she's over on their end of the counter, popping the cap off a bottle of beer for Jeff.

"Happy birthday, Britta." Annie attempts to hug her from over the counter, but Britta's sloppy, floppy drunk and they nearly knock over Shirley's mudslide.

"Sorry, sorry," Britta flutters, almost overcorrecting her save. As it is, she still sloshes beverage on both Shirley and Annie.

Shirley is unbothered. "Just keep 'em coming," she insists.

"Who's driving you home?" Annie asks.

Shirley giggles. "Andre is going to come pick me up."

Satisfied, Annie turns her attention back to Britta. "I hate to kill your party-hardy mood, but I brought an unexpected guest."

"Is Dom here?" Britta perks up. "He's super cool."

"The super coolest." Jeff almost achieves sincerity.

Annie, clearly dreading the truth, says, "No. He has class in Denver in the morning, remember? It's someone you know from high school."

This pulls Britta up short, and Jeff feels mirthful.

"No. Who? No, don't tell me. I don't want to know." A beat. "Who is it, woman!?"

Annie plucks Britta's hand from where it's clasped her polo. "My manager, Thorin Jones."

Abed appears at Jeff's side.

"Nooooo!" Britta basically falls to her knees, overdramatic and drunk, drunk, drunk.

"He remembers your birthday," Jeff piles on gleefully.

"He also just took Chang, Duncan, and the dean out to the parking lot to smoke a joint," Abed adds helpfully, pointing out the odd group as they weave past the tables on their way outside.

Britta gets up when one of the other bar patrons calls for another round. "One sec," she promises before darting off again.

"Thorin's lack of emotional availability makes me uncomfortable," Abed says. It takes Jeff a second to realize the irony.

"It's so weird." Annie's voice takes on furtive edge despite the fact that she has to yell to be heard over the music. Jeff, Abed, and Shirley lean closer to catch everything. "When he's in manager mode, Thor is totally personable and bubbly. As soon as the store closes or his shift ends, though, he just…turns off."

"Maybe he's a robot," Abed observes hopefully.

"Or a Blorb-tagon," Shirley muses with a burp-hiccup.

"I think you mean Blorgon," Jeff corrects. He cups Abed's shoulder and leans in to whisper, "Don't worry, buddy, I gotcha."

"Pew." Abed shoots a single finger gun pellet at him.

"I think he's just a really weird person," Annie concludes, ever the pragmatist.

Britta slides back over to the group. "Thorin Jones stalked me in high school." She widens her eyes and gives the group a meaningful look.

"Stalked you like with binoculars outside your bedroom window or like more-aggressive-than-called-for advances?" Annie checks, her cheeks paling.

"No binoculars." Britta waves away Annie's worry. "I think. I hope."

"I'm going to take a stand and say I don't like his guy." Jeff emphatically pounds his beer against the counter.

"Nah, he's definitely harmless," Britta decides. "He just asked me to be his date for every high school event, ever. He even asked me to be his date for graduation. _After_ I dropped out."

Jeff, just starting to feel the weightlessness of being drunk, finds himself unable to stop staring at Annie. Her upper lip curls involuntarily at Britta's comment, but even her sneers are cute. So cute.

Shirley coughs loudly, drawing Jeff's attention. She raises an eyebrow suggestively, and it actually makes Jeff blush.

But he doesn't have time to linger on what, exactly, Shirley is trying to suggest. A funky-smelling Duncan slides up next to Abed. "Now that I'm not sober, I can actually enjoy hanging out with you chumps." He blows Britta a kiss. She mimes catching it, adding it to a drink, shaking it up, and then throws the imaginary beverage in Duncan's face. He plays along, complete with gurgling noises and cleaning his glasses. "Can't say I didn't deserve that," he sighs. "Who's up for darts?"

Chang starts hopping up and down. "Me! Me! Me! Me!"

"This'll be safe," Jeff snarks.

"I'm going to get the first-aid kit from my car." Annie pushes away from the counter, and Jeff watches her till she disappears out the entrance.

"Which one's Britta's stalker?" Shirley asks after Britta goes back to her customers, trying to whisper and failing miserably.

"White Dreadlocks," Abed and Jeff say at the same time.

"Nice," Abed adds, nodding at Jeff and pointing out Thorin for Shirley.

Shirley clucks her tongue miserably. "Those are _not_ sexy dreadlocks."

The dean squeezes in where Annie had been standing. "Oh," he places a hand on his heart "agree to disagree."

Shirley looks scandalized.

"You should go for it," Jeff encourages Dean Pelton. And, with that, he turns on his heel and walks away from the counter before the dean's hand can crawl any higher up Jeff's thigh.

He ends up remaining on the outskirts of the activity as the rest of the group mingles and celebrates. He watches Thor flirt with Britta and the dean flirt with Thor. Shirley and Abed make a drinking game out of the odd threesome. (Every time the dean mentions the dreadlocks, take a shot; every time Britta makes Sour Face, take a shot.) Chang and Duncan stick with darts for a while and then move onto pool. And Annie—thoughtful, cautious Annie—flits around tending to everyone.

Except him. He drinks and drinks and drinks, and Annie doesn't check up on him at all.

Jeff swishes the contents of his beer around in his glass, staring into the piss-yellow liquid pensively. She's been tense around him even though he's made a point to be nice to Dom. He's not sure what she's expecting him to do. Yell at the guy? Challenge him to a medieval joust? Disembowel him?

Save for the jousting—which would be pretty cool—Jeff doesn't have any desire to be mean to Dom, mess with the relationship. What Shirley said to him the night of the dinner at Annie and Abed’s apartment resonated. Annie deserves to be happy; it doesn't matter who she's happy with.

Besides, he waited too long to tell her. He's approximately five years too late, and that's his own doing. So, yeah, he's got to live with that.

He just wishes they could go back to being best friends. Not this distant, overwrought echo of their old camaraderie.

"Why so glum, chum?" Britta does a little jump onto the table Jeff's leaning against and nudges his side with her thigh. "You've been wallflower guy all night." She has a bottle of something in one hand and glasses in the other.

"Aren't you supposed to be behind the counter?" Jeff asks to avoid answering her question.

"Fifteen-minute break. I bring peace pipe," Britta jests, revealing that the bottle is of his favorite scotch. She pours them both a small measure.

He takes his gratefully and toasts with her.

"How's holding off dreadlocks going?"

Britta's face scrunches distastefully. "It's not. I'm pretty sure I agreed to go out with him."

"Britta," Jeff rolls his eyes. "That's gross."

She shrugs. “Eh, I’ll deal with it when I’m sober.”

“Excellent strategy.”

“Like you’re any better, Mr. No Deal.”

“You take that back.” Jeff’s hand flies up to his hair worriedly. “I look nothing like Howie Mandel.”

Britta snorts. “I meant that you don’t deal with things. Duh-doy.”

“Oh. Right.” Jeff stares critically at the scotch in his glass. “I may have had too much to drink.”

“Good, then you’re ripe and ready to talk about your issues. Lay it on me.”

“There will be no laying of any kind.” Jeff curls his lip distastefully. “If I ever want to feel worse about my problems, I’ll be sure to give you a call. Till then, I think I’ll stick with talking to my licensed therapist.”

Britta sighs, and Jeff feels a pang of guilt for being so harsh. “I’m not asking what’s wrong with you as a psych major,” she clarifies. “I’m asking as a friend. Remember friends? You have a lot of them, and they all care about you. You don’t always have to be stoic and reserved, Jeff. We’ve all loved you for five years now. I think we can handle whatever’s going on in that demented brain of yours.”

“Touching,” Jeff mocks. But he pauses for a moment and realizes that Britta’s right. “Sorry. Thanks for the pep talk. I mean it.” She smiles and waits expectantly. Jeff shakes his head. “But I’m still going to pass on the heart to heart.”

She rolls her eyes and slides down from the table. “Suit yourself.”

“Hey,” he taps her shoulder before she can scurry away. “Happy birthday.”

“To being middle-aged!” Britta raises her glass.

“To having twenty to twenty-five solid years until we reach old age,” Jeff replies.

They clink their glasses together and drink on it.

###

Annie has a meeting with the dean bright and early Wednesday morning. As she’s walking across campus to the administration building, her phone buzzes in her jacket pocket. Dodging a particularly reckless skateboarder, she digs it out and checks the message.

 _Have a good meeting!_ It’s from Dom.

Annie smiles, touched. He’s always sending her messages like that, and it feels nice to be considered so thoroughly. But she always feels bad for not reciprocating with the same intensity.

_Thanks! Enjoy your seminar._

The dean’s secretary waves Annie right into the office when she stomps meaningfully into the room.

She immediately regrets not knocking, though, as Dean Pelton is in the middle of changing. “Dean!” Annie protests, ducking her head so she doesn’t see much. “What are you doing?”

“You’re early!” he protests. “I recently ordered a Betty Boop outfit and it just came this morning. I was making sure it fit.”

Annie groans in response, continuing to shield her eyes.

“Oh, Annie. The human body is beautiful. You really shouldn’t be ashamed.”

“Yeah, well, maybe you should be a little more ashamed.”

The dean scoffs. “You can look now. I’m decent.”

Annie drops her hand in relief and settles into the couch. She unzips her backpack and pulls out her binder. “What do you want me to cover first?”

“The good news. Wait, no, deliver the bad news first. I’m ready. I can handle it.”

“There is no good or bad news,” Annie says exasperatedly. “I just figured you’d want an update about the Save Greendale Committee’s accomplishments.”

“Oh,” the dean brightens. “Update away.”

“Okay. First, I just got news yesterday that we’ve been shortlisted to receive the Marie Curie Faculty Grant. If we get it, we’ll have the money to hire a new professor in math, science, or a related field. I’m working on a list of potential candidates.”

“Always a step ahead; that’s why you’re Greendale’s savior.”

“Let’s not count any chickens before they hatch,” Annie advises, but she feels her back straighten at the compliment. “Anyway, we’ve sent out about fifteen applications, but that’s the only one we’ve heard anything about.” She removes a few sheets of paper from the binder and leans over to place them on the dean’s desk. “Here’s a list of STEM and liberal arts grants for various things. I figured you could look it over and tell me which one’s we should focus on in order to do the most good for the departments.”

Dean Pelton gives the list a quick once over and hands it back to Annie. “I’m sure whatever you choose will be best for Greendale.”

Annie resists the urge to roll her eyes as she accepts the pages from the dean. It’s not like she minds being in control—quite the contrary—but she does wish Dean Pelton was more actively interested in making the school better. He’s a close friend and a lovely person. But she often resents him as a dean.

“Fine,” she sighs. “I also wanted to talk to you about an idea Jeff and I had: a student showcase.”

Dean Pelton perks up at Jeff’s name. “It sounds brilliant,” he gushes. “Let’s do it!”

“I haven’t even told you the idea!” Annie protests.

“You and Jeffrey are a dream team. If you guys came up with it, I’m sure it’ll be perfect.”

“Well, thank you for the vote of confidence.” Annie stresses every word as though talking to an easily distracted child. “But there’re a lot of logistics to work out.”

“Just tell me what you need, and we’ll do it.”

Annie bites her lip. She feels like snapping, but having the dean fully committed to helping is important. Even if his commitment is blind. “Alrighty then.” Annie clamps the binder shut. “I’ll send you an email with figures, an estimated guest list, and when to reserve the cafeteria.”

“Is that all you had?”

“I suppose so.” Annie starts to pack.

“Good. I had something I wanted to talk to you about.”

Annie stiffens and turns back to the dean. “Okay.”

“It’s Jeffrey,” he whispers conspiratorially.

Annie relaxes. “Oh, what about him?”

Dean Pelton gets up from his desk and joins Annie on the couch. “He’s been so hot and cold,” he bemoans. “One minute his passion for me is opening the door in Borchert's Laboratory, and the next he’s rejecting my every invitation of alone time.”

Annie zeros in on the new information. “That’s what opened the door? How do you know?”

“When we turned around,” the dean’s voice is dreamy with recollection, “he was staring right at me. He looked embarrassed to be caught, but it was unmistakable.”

Annie doubts, smitten as the dean is, that his memory is unmistakable. How many times had she built up an insignificant moment or a coincidence in her own head? It's easy to misread Jeff.

She doesn't want to be the one to crush Dean Pelton, though. "Well, have you asked him about it?" Annie suggests helpfully, trying to keep the heavy skepticism from her voice.

"Not in so many words," the dean admits. "This is far too delicate for directness." Annie shakes her head and looks up at the ceiling. "Plus, I think he's afraid of his feelings. He wouldn't answer honestly."

"So what do you want me to do about it?"

“You two are very close,” the dean muses. “Maybe he’d be more comfortable if you were on board with the whole thing. We could ease him into it with a double date. Would you and Dom be willing?”

Annie blanches. "Oh, Dean, I don't think—"

"Pretty please?" The dean pleads, pouting out his lower lip and clasping his hands under his chin.

"You don't think that's a little much?" she suggests. "Even if he agrees to the date, that seems like a lot of pressure."

"But that's where your power to convince Jeffrey Winger comes in. He listens to you, Annie. I need this!"

"I'm not sure I'm comf—"

Dean Pelton actually gets on his knees in front of her. "If you don't do this, we might miss out on our chance at true love!"

Annie stares down at the dean literally throwing himself at her feet. She doesn't want to do this—she can't think of anything she'd rather do _less_ than go on a date with Jeff, Dom, and Dean Pelton—but he looks so desperate….

Besides, Jeff will never agree to go. He'll make up some lame excuse, and she'll be exempt from the terrible evening.

"Please," the dean adds, batting his eyelashes. Annie bites her lip, unsure. "It's just one evening. I want a shot at happiness, Annie. _Please, please, please_!"

"Alright!" Annie shouts, mostly to shut the dean up. "Fine. I'll talk to Jeff. But I wouldn't get your hopes up," she emphasizes.

Dean Pelton jumps up and starts dancing around his office. "I've got a date with Jeffrey, I've got a date with Jeffrey," he chants.

 _Way to not get your hopes up_ , Annie thinks with a quiet groan.

"When are we doing this?" she asks, mostly to put a stop to the dean's absurd display.

"The sooner the better! How’s Friday?"

"Great," Annie replies glumly. "Friday, it is."

###

Freshly showered after his workout at the gym, Jeff picks apart his kitchen for dinner. By the time he settles on stir-fry, prepares the meal, and settles at his kitchen table with a glass of scotch and the reading he’d assigned his Monday-Wednesday-Friday intro to law class, there’s a knock at his door.

Grumbling to himself, Jeff stalks over and whips it open.

Britta’s on the other side with a large bottle of wine that she holds forward as an offering. “Hey.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I don’t know. I just dropped Thorin back off at his parents’ place, and I’m feeling kinda scummy.”

“That doesn’t answer my question,” Jeff points out. But he lets the door fall open in invitation, his curiosity about the date enough of a reason to give up his quiet evening alone.

Britta, totally comfortable at his place, snags some wine glasses out of Jeff’s cupboard and joins him at the table. “Did I interrupt dinner?”

“It’s not a big deal,” he assures. “So…you went through with the date, huh?”

Britta winces and pours herself a lot of wine. “I forgot all about it until he called four hours ago asking where I was.”

“You did do an impressive number of shots Sunday night. I’m not surprised your memory’s spotty,” Jeff smirks. He tries to quickly yet gracefully shovel food into his mouth so he’s not awkwardly eating in front of her. After a gulp of scotch, he asks, “Why didn’t you just shut him down?”

Britta scowls into her wine and doesn’t answer him. “Did you ever consider me relationship material, or were you always just after me for sex?”

Jeff narrowly avoids choking on a teriyaki-soaked red pepper. “I'm not sure what you want me to say," he hedges.

"No, it's fine." Britta shakes her head and then guzzles the contents of her glass. As she's pouring herself a more reasonable amount of alcohol, she adds, "I know the answer."

They're quiet as Jeff finishes up his hurried meal. He wants to probe Britta for date details, but she looks pretty dejected.

He knows her well enough to recognize that she'll talk when she has something to say; leading questions will not do the trick.

After he rinses his dish and scotch glass and loads his dishwasher, they find themselves on his couch. Britta, who's finished her second helping, replenishes her wine and pours a glass for Jeff.

He accepts the glass with a “Thanks,” as they settle in.

Jeff flips through some channels before deciding on a mindless action movie with Clive Owen and Paul Giamatti. He idly wonders where Troy is and how he's doing.

Several commercial breaks in, the continued silent brooding of Britta and ridiculous plot of the movie lead Jeff to split his attention between watching and skimming the reading for tomorrow.

Distracted as he is, he doesn't notice that Britta's been scooting closer to him on the couch for twenty minutes till she's practically on top of him. But he doesn't think anything of it until she uses her fingernails to tickle the inside of his thigh.

Jeff slaps his book shut and gently circles his fingers around Britta's wrist. He moves her hand back into her own lap and angles himself toward her. "Okay, let's talk about this."

Britta scowls. "Why? We've never been much for talking. Plus, I think I got all the subtext I need, thanks." She scoots away on the couch.

"Britta," Jeff sighs. He feels as uncomfortable as she seems to be. "You know I think you're, well, charming and everything—"

"Holy shit," Britta's eyes bug out of her head. "You're trying to let me down gently. You. Jeff Winger. The man who proposed to me just five months ago and then broke off said proposal a few short hours later." She snorts derisively. "Save it, dude. You're not in the mood. It's whatever."

Jeff grinds his teeth. He considers letting it go, but they've never addressed anything explicitly. He owes Britta some honesty.

"It's not—" he tries, but reconsiders and starts again. "I'm in love with Annie."

She visibly starts, then narrows her eyes and looks at him searchingly. "No shit?" Jeff nods his head. She’s quiet for another minute and then shrugs. "I guess I'm not really surprised."

"You're not?"

"You've been dancing around each other since the group got together. I mean, I'm a little surprised you're being so chill about it right now." She eyes him suspiciously. "But, come on, I've at least known you wanted to bang her since Vaughn."

Jeff feels his face scrunch at Britta's crudeness, but he appreciates her nonchalance.

"I've known for a little while now," he confides. "Believe me, there was nothing chill about my initial reaction."

She laughs. "So when did you finally achieve emotional intelligence?"

Jeff ducks his head, sheepish, and mumbles, "Borchert's Lab."

"Huh?"

"Borchert's Lab," he repeats a little louder.

Britta's reaction is immediate. She lunges at him, flailing her arms. "You sonovabitch!" She punctuates each word with a punch. "You suck! How! Come! My affection! Drives! You! To Annie!"

He lets her get it out of her system (and makes a note to piss Britta off less), sitting still until she backs off. "Done?” he checks.

"I guess," she pouts.

"I am genuinely sorry about how the end of last semester played out. You're my friend, and I used you. That's not okay, and I know it."

"Fine," Britta huffs. "Apology accepted." He raises a brow pointedly. She throws her hands up in the air. "Okay, okay! I used you, too. But I'm not going to apologize for it because you're still more disgusting than me."

"Fair," Jeff concedes. Then, after a moment, he adds, "My being in love with Annie doesn't have anything to do with you, you know. It's not like I'm so repulsed by you that it drives me into her arms. I'm just an idiot who doesn't listen to his emotions and then fucks everything up."

"I want that on a plaque. I'd hang it above my cats' litter box."

Jeff chuckles. "Sure. I'll get it made as a late birthday gift."

Britta smiles tentatively at him. "Thanks."

"For what?"

"For opening up to me. For being a mostly good friend." She pauses for a beat. "For not having sex with me just because I'm feeling shitty about myself."

"The date with Thorin?" Jeff guesses.

She slumps into the couch. "Yeah. I don't know. I guess with my birthday and everything…" She trails off, gathering her thoughts. "I'm 34. It's not like I wanna settle down with a 'good man'," Britta uses scathingly sarcastic air quotes, "and have kids, and a house, and a white picket fence. But lately I've been thinking that my way of doing things—screwing around with the Jeff Wingers and Thorin Joneses of the world—isn't what I want for the rest of my life, either."

"Hey," Jeff calls her attention to him softly. "You want my unsolicited advice?" She nods. "You've still got plenty of time to do things with your life. Just don't spend more time thinking about it than you do, well, doing things. That's no way to live, and I learned that the hard way."

"Dom?" Britta guesses. Jeff sighs. She pats his shoulder, and it's awkward. But it's also comforting.

They let their strange openness dissipate, quietly absorbing the rare moments of insight.

Finally, Britta pushes off the couch with a gusty exhale. "Well this has been weirdly pleasant, but I should get home."

Jeff stands, too. "Sure. Yeah." He opens the door as she gathers her things. "'Night."

She pauses in the doorway, unsure. In a second of madness, Britta hurls herself at Jeff again. Only, this time, instead of punching, she gives him a clinging hug. As soon as she pulls away, Britta scurries down the hall.

Jeff watches her go, shaking his head but smiling fondly.


	4. 1d of 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Word Count:** 5,105  
>  **Disclaimer:** These characters belong to Dan Harmon, etc., etc. I simply enjoy manipulating them.  
>  **Author's Note:** As usual, my gratitude goes out to my phenomenal beta, bethanyactually. The title of the story comes from a Four Star Mary song called "She Knows."  
>  This chapter is the last section of part one. It's a little shorter than usual, but I hope the content makes up for it.

On Friday morning, Annie pauses outside Jeff's office. She hasn't talked to him about the double date yet, and the dean is going to have an aneurysm if she doesn't do it soon.

Still, she resents this assignment, and she's not looking forward to Jeff laughing her out the door.

Listening for a clue that Jeff is inside—and hoping he's not—Annie steps closer. She hears a muffled rumble and presses her ear against the door.

"Well I'm calling you now, aren't I?" A brief pause. "Maybe because every time I do you yell at me for not calling more." It's definitely Jeff's voice, but it sounds thinner and more irate than usual. "I'm just observing a pattern of behavior, no need to crucify me." A longer silence, punctuated by several exasperated sighs. "I already told you I'd be over for Thanksgiving, okay? I promise. I'll be there…Okay… _Yes_ , mom…Alright…I love you, too…Bye." At war with herself as to whether she should knock or come back later, Annie lingers. "Get in here, Annie." Jeff's voice sounds tired and irritated from the other side of the door. "I know you're out there."

Annie tentatively lets the door fall open a couple inches. "How?"

Jeff gestures to the large window. The shades are mostly drawn, but she can still see the people walking past. "I could see you loitering. Hear anything interesting?" he snaps.

Annie eases the door shut. "I wanted to see if you were in here," she bristles at his mood. "I wasn't intentionally eavesdropping."

"Uh-huh," Jeff nods. "But you did eavesdrop, so your intentions are moot." He produces a full bottle of vodka seemingly out of thin air.

"God, Jeff," she reprimands, "it's 10:30 in the fucking morning. Put that away!"

He seems surprised by the expletive, but recovers quickly. "You're not the boss of me, Annie."

"Yeah, well, maybe someone should be—someone who’s not you. You've been drinking a lot."

He looks her in the eye, defiantly, as he takes a swig out of the bottle.

Annie feels her nostrils flare in response.

"So why were you looking for me?" He's grinning all cocksure, and she feels an irrational and intense urge to punch the smugness off his face.

"You're being a dick," she points out.

"That's me," Jeff agrees sardonically, "penis man. Either say what you came to say, or get out and leave me alone."

Annie raises an eyebrow. Clearly, talking to his mother put Jeff on edge. And, as usual, he’s lashing out instead of dealing with it.

And she's sick of it.

She wants him to own up to an emotion for once.

“I need you to meet me and the dean at Señor Kevin’s tonight at 7. _Sober_.”

It’s not technically a lie, but she still avoids giving Jeff further explanation by turning crisply on her heel and charging back out the door.

The rest of Annie’s day has a sour flavor, and she doesn’t even crack a smile when she gets an abnormal psychology test back with a glowing, red 100% at the top.

The dean is thrilled, though, when he hears that Jeff will (probably) be at dinner.

When she finally gets home—and collapses onto her bed, exhausted—Annie gets a text from Britta.

_had a heart to heart with jeff the other day, learned some interesting things_

She has to get ready, and the last thing she wants to do is coax information about Jeff out of Britta of all people. She ignores the message and goes about picking out an outfit.

As she's curling the strands of hair she's tugged out of her ponytail, Dom knocks on Annie's half-closed door. "Hey, cutie. You look gorgeous."

She flushes in appreciation and sets down the hot curling iron before rushing over to give him a hug. "Hey, how was your drive?"

"Not bad. I hit some traffic on the way out of the big city, but nothing unmanageable. Where's Abed?"

"He and Rachel went to a movie night on campus. Lemme finish doing my hair and we'll head out."

Dom kisses her lightly on the cheek and sits on the edge of Annie's bed, talking about school and the vacation his family is planning for winter break, until she's done. Apparently the entire clan of Finks get together for family fun that lasts from the week before Christmas till after New Year's.

Spending that much time with her family would lead to murder, but Dom's bubbly-excited about the ordeal.

They arrive at Señor Kevin's a half hour early. Not surprisingly, Dean Pelton is already there, rambling to himself by the entrance.

"Hey, Dean?" Annie calls tentatively. "You okay?"

He comes rushing over.

Dom leans over to Annie to whisper. "Is that man crying?"

"Oh Annie!" The dean falls into her arms before she can answer Dom. "I've dreamt of this for years," he sobs into her shoulder. "I'm…so…happy," he manages between gasps.

Annie pats and rubs his back tentatively, flashing Dom an apologetic grimace.

"I think you should take a few deep breaths," she advises. "You don't want to hyperventilate."

Dean Pelton stands up abruptly and wipes his face. "We should establish a signal!"

"A signal?"

"You know," the dean waggles his eyebrows suggestively, and Annie feels a shred of her innocence shrivel into nothing. "If things are going well—"

"I got it," Annie insists.

But the dean continues over her, "—we're going to want to be alone to do some _aerobic Jenga_."

"Jenga? Like with the wooden tiles? That doesn't require physical activity at all," Dom says, confused.

Annie gapes at both of them.

To make matters more complicated, Jeff strides up to the group then, looking more than a little haggard. When he’s a few paces away, he stops in his tracks to examine the group. Immediately, Jeff’s eyes narrow. “What is this?”

“Oh, good, you’re just in time for our date.” Annie informs him haughtily.

Jeff raises his eyebrows in surprise. “Our wha—”

" _Oh_!" Dom exclaims suddenly. "It's a euphemism!"

Dean Pelton rushes to Jeff's side. “Oh, Jeffrey, our first date.” The dean sighs dreamily, “We’ll be telling our future children and sexual partners the story of this night for years to come.”

Jeff’s repelled by the idea, his entire body jerking back.

“Yes, I’m sure tonight will make quite a story,” Annie agrees. “Shall we?”

She leads the group inside, Dom half a step behind her and the dean clinging to Jeff’s arm, herding him.

She can feel Jeff’s accusatory stare burning a hole between her shoulder blades, but she tries to ignore it as she tells the host, “Table for four.”

While they settle into their seats, Annie chances a look across the table at Jeff. He’s already staring at her, enraged and confused.

She cocks an eyebrow at him challengingly.

He flares his nostrils in response, tilting his head.

“So,” Dom breaks into their wordless argument, “what’s good here?”

“Are you a Die Hard fan?” Jeff answers Dom’s question with a question. “You should ask the manager about Die Hard.”

Dom gives Annie a questioning look. She sighs. “The nachos are really good. We should split some.”

Jeff mutters indignantly to himself.

“So romantic,” the dean coos excitedly. “We should split something, too, Jeffrey.”

Jeff’s staring at Annie through narrowed eyes when he answers, “I’ve got a few things in mind.”

Unable to help herself, Annie sticks her tongue out at him.

###

Jeff can't remember a time he's ever been more uncomfortable. Several uncomfortable moments come to mind—the racist Spanish skit he did with Pierce, monkey gas, attacking Rich in beginner pottery—but nothing quite compares to sitting through a double date with the girl he loves, her nondescript but weirdly-perfect boyfriend, and his pseudo-stalker.

And it doesn’t help that his usual ally in situations like this was the one to trick him into such a strange gathering.

Jeff’s not sure what he did, but he’s pretty certain—whatever it was—it didn’t merit this kind of betrayal. So he’s feeling pretty justified in his rage, staring Annie down across the table.

She seems to think she belongs in the justified camp, too, flipping her hair arrogantly and turning up her nose whenever he tries to communicate his frustration through intense eye contact.

Dean Pelton and Dom are blissfully unaware of the tense impasse. All of Dom’s attention is directed at Annie; he barely even bothers to look away from her to eat his food. And the dean—oh, the dean—is equally focused on Jeff, asking him sleazy and leading questions about his sexual preferences and caressing any part of Jeff he has access to.

Jeff keeps asking the dean to stop, but Craig has always had trouble with ‘no.’

When Dean Pelton’s hand moves to stroke new and invasive places, Jeff is driven over the edge.

“Okay!” he jumps out of his seat. “We need to talk. Outside. _Now_.” Jeff aggressively grips Craig’s upper arm and hauls him toward the front of the restaurant.

“Oh, Jeffrey, so forceful. Is it time for the aerobic Jenga?”

“What? _No_ ,” Jeff replies emphatically. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Well, by the age of six—”

Jeff cuts the dean off. “I don’t have time for your life story, Craig. I want to know what the hell tonight is about!”

By this point, Jeff is seething mad and towering over the dean, who cowers.

Answering in a rush, Dean Pelton keeps his hands raised over his head as if expecting some kind of physical retribution. “I know your passion for me unlocked the door in Borchert's Lab but I also know you’re scared of your emotions so I enlisted Annie’s help to get you on a double date so you’d feel supported and willing to open up, please don’t hurt me.”

Jeff straightens up, mulling over the dean’s explanation. “Huh.”

Dean Pelton checks Jeff’s expression and then—satisfied that he’s not about to be beaten—relaxes. “Are we good?” he raises an eyebrow and holds out his arms for a hug.

“My passion for you—more accurately, my lack thereof—did not open the door.” Jeff explains, knocking away the dean’s hands.

“But you were looking right at me when we turned around,” the dean whines.

“Yeah, about that,” Jeff rubs a nervous hand over the back of his neck. He doesn’t really want to have this conversation, but it’s long overdue. “I didn’t want people to know what had really done it. It was just a coincidence, my looking at you.” Jeff almost feels sorry for the dean as he watches the man deflate.

“So you’re not in love with me?”

“Craig, you’re…an okay guy. And I’m occasionally grateful for your friendship. But,” Jeff snorts, “did you really think I was in love with you?”

Dean Pelton pauses, thinking. “Yes?”

Jeff shakes his head, exasperated. “First of all, you’re a man. Which would be alluring for some people, but that really doesn’t do it for me. And it probably never will. Second, you’ve never been shy about your feelings. If I wanted you, I’ve had plenty of opportunities to take you.” The dean swoons a little at _take you_ , but Jeff soldiers on. “I am not, have never been, nor ever will be in love with you. Sorry, Craig.”

The dean tears up a little, but he seems resigned to the truth nonetheless. “No, it’s fine. I suppose it’s time to face the music.” He wipes away a few of the tears, silent and thoughtful. Finally, he asks, “If not me, then who?”

“Huh?”

“If it's not me that you feel passion for, who is it?”

Reflexively, Jeff looks back at the restaurant.

Dean Pelton, as dense as he can be, puts it together pretty quickly. “Oh, Jeffrey.”

“Don’t tell her, okay?”

The dean nods. “Can I say something?”

“I’d really rather you didn’t, but I suspect you’re going to anyway.”

Sure enough, the dean places a hand on Jeff’s shoulder and says, “Speaking as someone with a lot of experience fawning over Jeff Winger, I know what it looks like to be in love with you. You should just tell her; Annie’s crazy about you.”

For once, Jeff doesn’t shrug off the dean’s hand. He feels a hopeful and excited shock tingle out from his heart at Dean Pelton’s words. But he doesn’t give them enough time to take root in his brain.

“She has Dom. And she seems to be happy with him. And he’s a good person. There are a million reasons why I shouldn’t tell her.”

The dean rolls his eyes at Jeff. “There are always going to be a million reasons not to make yourself vulnerable to someone who can hurt you, Jeffrey. But that’s never stopped Annie from opening up her heart to you. You owe her at least that. If it doesn’t work out, well, then at least you tried.” He senses that the dean’s last sentence is also directed inward. After several moments of introspective silence, the dean speaks up again. “I should go home.” He pulls a few bills out of his wallet to cover his meal and hands them to Jeff. “Tell Annie I said thank you and goodnight.”

“Sure,” Jeff promises.

He watches as the dean, wounded but still trucking along, walks to his car.

###

“They’ve been out there for a while.” Dom observes, pulling Annie’s attention away from Britta’s latest text.

She puts away her phone and shakes the dumbfounded haze from her brain. “Yeah, maybe we should go check on them,” she muses worriedly.

“We never did establish a signal. Maybe they went off for aer—”

Annie’s hands fly up to her ears. “Please don’t say it.”

Dom chuckles and gently tugs at Annie’s wrists. She relinquishes her hands to him, letting him cradle them between his own. “Aaaareobic,” he starts again, teasing.

“No,” Annie shoves Dom’s shoulder.

“ _Jenga_ ,” he taunts.

"Stop it," Annie giggles.

Jeff appears at the table then. “Craig had to get going. He said to say thanks and goodnight.”

“Aww,” Dom pouts, “No dessert?”

“Nah,” Jeff explains, “He got some disappointing news; it didn’t leave him in a dessert mood.”

Annie searches Jeff’s face curiously. He doesn’t look angry anymore, just kind of tired.

They pay the bill, leave their tip, and walk silently to the parking lot. Dom has his arm draped over Annie’s shoulders, and Jeff’s pointedly not looking at the couple. But Annie can’t seem to tear her gaze away from Jeff.

When they reach the first row of cars, Jeff turns to find Annie staring at him. He falters for a moment then says, “We should chat.”

“Sounds serious,” Dom’s verbal observation mirrors Annie’s silent one. “I’ll go bring the car around.”

Once he’s out of earshot, Jeff gets right to the point. “Not cool, Annie.”

She rolls her eyes. “You know what else isn’t cool, Jeff? Taking things out on your friends when they’re trying to help you. You were an ass this morning.”

“I was in a bad mood, okay? That didn’t give you the right to trick me into a _date_ with the man who’s been low-key sexually harassing me since we’ve known him.”

Annie harrumphs, but she knows he has a point. The punishment should fit the crime and all that. “Fine. I’m sorry. But he begged for my help, and he’s kinda relentless when he really wants something.”

“Apology accepted,” Jeff concedes. “And, for what it’s worth, I’m sorry, too.”

Annie nods and offers him a small smile. Jeff’s face softens in return.

“For the record,” she offers after a beat, “I had intended to tell you what you were getting into.”

Jeff grins widely. “Well you didn’t, so your intentions are moot.”

Annie raises her eyebrows. “Too soon.”

He shrugs and offers her a sheepish grin. Without thinking, Annie darts toward him and throws her arms around his waist, squeezing. After a moment, Jeff hugs back, sighing contentedly.

Pressed up against him, Annie realizes how long it’s been since they’ve been this easy together. She relaxes, nuzzling her face into Jeff’s chest.

The moment is over too soon, broken by the honking of Dom’s car.

“Well.” Annie takes a step back. “Goodnight.”

Jeff’s gaze is tender and he nods. “Enjoy your evening.”

Annie gets into the passenger seat, watching Jeff as he waves them out of sight.

“You guys looked cozy. What did he want to chat about?” Dom doesn’t quite manage to cover up the jealousy in his voice.

Not wanting to spoil the surprisingly sweet ending to the night, Annie tries to alleviate Dom’s worry. “We were just saying goodnight. No big deal.”

“He had seemed kind of mad,” Dom points out.

Annie shrugs and smiles to herself as she pats his thigh soothingly. “Jeff’s emotions are never quite what they seem.”

“If you say so,” Dom nods, dropping it. “Want to go for some frozen yogurt?”

"Sure,” Annie agrees distractedly. She’s still thinking about the hug, letting her mind linger without shame.

###

As Jeff turns into his childhood neighborhood, he’s hit with an overwhelming wave of nostalgic memories: mowing the lawn for their elderly neighbors; playing lonely, driveway basketball with the secondhand, plastic basketball hoop his mom found on someone’s curb; helping her clean the house on Sunday mornings.

More-or-less identical houses line either side of the street. As Jeff approaches his mother’s place, he notices some lawns are littered with bicycles and Fisher-Price play sets, some houses have stupid, fake deer on display, and some people got into the festivities and have autumn cornucopias and cartoon turkeys decorating windows and porches.

Maybe it’s because Jeff knows his mother lives alone, but her house looks especially desolate as he pulls into the driveway.

He hates this place. It’s suburban hell.

How long has it been since he’s spent more than a few minutes here? Jeff knows the answer is several years, but as soon as he steps foot into the kitchen from the garage entrance, all that time seems to fade away. The house smells the same as it’s always smelled—an unsettling combination of disinfectant, lilac, and just-cooked food. It’s almost reminiscent of a nursing home. His mother hasn’t painted in years, and the cheery yellow walls glow in the bright, late-November afternoon.

She hasn’t redecorated, either, and Jeff remembers the story for each deep nick in the kitchen table as he runs his fingers lightly across the surface.

“Ma?” he calls into the body of the house. “Doreen?”

“In here!” she yells from the direction of her bedroom in the back of the ranch.

She’d had Jeff in her late twenties, so Doreen is no spring chicken. Just before summer, she got hip replacement surgery, and Jeff waits in the TV room as she limps toward him, heavily relying on a cane.

"How are you doing?" he asks wearily, not sure if he should be doing something to help. Even when he’d picked her up from the hospital after the procedure, he’d felt useless and had taken a hands-off approach to getting her settled.

"Oh," his mom says between labored breaths, "I've certainly had better days. I'm so happy you're here, though."

Jeff tries to shrug off her sincerity-infused tone, but for some reason her words make him want to break down crying.

"Glad to be here," he lies.

Doreen finally arrives where Jeff's standing and reaches way up to pat his cheek affectionately. "Happy belated birthday, baby boy."

"Ma," Jeff rolls his eyes at the sentimental look in her eyes. "I thought we agreed not to do this."

"You're more sensitive than a woman," she waggles a finger at him. He stares down coolly at her until she relents. "Fine, fine. Happy Thanksgiving."

"Happy Thanksgiving," he concedes.

Jeff actually loves the years when his birthday falls this close to Thanksgiving. It's so easily forgotten in the excitement of cultural appropriation and genocide.

He follows behind Doreen as she makes her slow way into the kitchen. "Are you going to be my little helper?"

Grunting at his childhood title, Jeff is already reaching above the refrigerator for her cookbooks. "It wouldn't be Thanksgiving otherwise," he admits, reluctantly fond, after a prolonged moment.

His mom is quiet as they go about preparing dinner. Cooking seems to take a lot of her energy and concentration. She asks occasional questions during lags, but mostly Jeff's mom gives him kind orders as the meal comes together.

As the kitchen grows warm and the nursing home smell is drowned in the mouth-watering scents of roasting turkey, gravy, and freshly baked bread, Jeff feels himself relax. He'd missed his mom and her easygoing nature, and he regrets not visiting her more often.

Not that he's going to come around every week, but he realizes it's time to start paying regular visits.

Doreen produces a pretty nice bottle of wine as their hard work turns to occasional stirring and basting.

"You planning to stay a while?" she checks. When Jeff nods, Doreen breaks out the wine glasses and pours them both some of the merlot. "I recorded the Macy's parade," she hints hopefully.

Jeff thinks the parade is foolish, but his mom's a fan of the camp. This visit is about making her happy, so Jeff shrugs, yielding easily.

As soon as the food's done, they each make a plate and move back into the TV room. Doreen settles in her overlarge armchair and Jeff sits on the ground at her feet, leaning delicately against her legs. She runs a hand over his shoulder before turning on the television and queuing up the recording.

The meal is good and Jeff eats way more than he planned, goaded by his mom. The wine eases his tension to the point that all the dance numbers and giant balloons seem kind of fun instead of annoying.

He's slumped further on the ground—his mom mussing his hair while humming softly to the musical number currently playing out on screen—when he gets a text from Annie.

They've been pretty much back to normal since the obscene double date misadventure. Jeff's not quite sure what caused Annie to relax so completely, but he's certainly grateful for whatever it is.

He smiles when he opens the message, a picture of her and Abed dressed in festive sweaters with the caption _Happy Thanksgiving from 303!_ They had invited him to join them in delivering thanksgiving meals to the less fortunate (Annie's idea, obviously), but he'd given them a half-assed excuse about wanting to spend the day alone.

They'd easily backed off, knowing how sensitive Jeff gets around his birthday.

Doreen notices his distraction and leans forward to see the picture. "Pretty," she comments. "Is that your girlfriend?"

Jeff feels his pulse thump and his face warm. "No, Ma."

Doreen clucks her tongue. "Should I just give up on grandchildren completely?"

He rolls his eyes up to look at her. "If I'm ever able to tell the future, I'll let you know."

She grins slyly. "That's a better answer than I usually get. Is there someone in your life I should know about?"

Jeff looks back down at the picture of Annie and Abed, his eyes lingering on her easy, luminous smile. It's not even the real thing, but it makes him feel warm from the inside out.

"Not quite," he sighs, knowing his ominous tone will drive his mom insane with curiosity. "But you'll be among the first to know if that changes."

###

"Have fun you guys!" Annie calls down the hallway as Rachel and Abed carry off the last of their luggage to load into Rachel's hatchback for Abed's film festival. "Text me everything," she reminds him, feeling nervous excitement on his behalf.

Abed flashes her a thumbs-up before he disappears down the stairwell.

And then Annie's alone.

She loves rooming with Abed, but she's been looking forward to the quiet environment, perfect for finals studying.

Humming to herself, Annie lugs her books and laptop to the kitchen table. She spends the better part of two hours reading over her color-coded study guide for chemistry before she feels entitled to a break.

Sucking on a mint to keep her mind focused, Annie cycles through her social media profiles before checking her email. A shot of adrenaline does better at stimulating her mind than any mint could when she notices a message from Dr. Floyd. The title of the email simply reads **Re: Research Assistant Position**.

     _Ms. Edison,_

     _I was delighted to see your application amidst the many I received for the position of my research assistant. Despite your strange choice in higher education institution—or perhaps because of it—your resume is easily the most impressive of the bunch. You have a bright mind and a promising career ahead of you. I'd like to help kick-start said career by unofficially offering you the position. You should receive a formal letter in the mail in a few days. Obviously, if you wish to accept, arrangements must be made regarding your transfer and housing._

     _I look forward to discussing the matter more fully as we move forward._

     _Warm regards,_

     _Dr. Gregory Floyd_

Annie stares in shock, reading the email over and over, for nearly fifteen minutes. She wants to remember his exact compliments and this rush of pride next time any person dares to insult her.

In this moment, Annie is invincible.

But moments end and reality rears its ugly head.

_Obviously, if you wish to accept, arrangements must be made regarding your transfer and housing._

She'd have to leave Greendale. Heck, she'd have to leave the entire state of Colorado.

And Abed…Shirley…Britta… _Jeff_.

"Fuck," Annie mutters to herself, worrying at her bottom lip with her teeth.

Finals forgotten, Annie finds one of her planning notebooks and promptly starts making a pros and cons list.

Pros: fast-track to jobs in her field, studying under one of the leading forensics academics, near the beach, better school.

Cons: credits may not transfer out of state, no friends, expensive (???)

She stares at her incomplete list for a long time, trying to puzzle out what to do.

Finally, desperate for advice, Annie calls Jeff.

"Hey," he answers cheerfully. "What happened to no distractions till 3:00 on Friday?" he teases, bringing up her strictly-enforced rule about finals week.

"I got some pretty big news," she confides. "Can you come over?"

"Be there in twenty," he offers without hesitation or question.

On edge, Annie clutches her notebook and paces back and forth till there's a buzz from downstairs.

She rushes to the front lobby to let Jeff in.

He's standing by the door, hands pushed deep in his winter jacket and a ski cap on his head.

It must be snowing pretty heavily; Annie knows Jeff wouldn't chance hat hair unless the snow would do more damage to his 'do.

She pauses a moment to really let the image of Jeff sink in. She wants to treasure it, keep a perfect scan in her memory forever.

"This must be some news," Jeff points out by way of greeting when she pushes open the door.

Annie nods, a nervous click coming from the back of her throat.

Jeff cocks an eyebrow but silently follows her up the stairs to her apartment.

She rushes over to the table and opens the email again. "Read this," she commands, turning her laptop so he can see.

As he scans the words, she watches Jeff's face. "Way to go, Annie," he cheers, offering her a proud grin.

"Keep reading," she prompts tensely.

His face completely transforms after a moment, and Annie knows he's got it. Pale and gaping, Jeff stares at her. "He's a professor at…?"

"Stanford."

"In California?" he clarifies, grasping.

"Yes, Jeff, where else?" she gusts, slumping into her seat and throwing her notebook down on the table.

"Shit. That's a good school." Jeff grimaces before his eyes are drawn to her list. After a moment, he says, "You forgot Dom."

Annie's brow wrinkles, and it takes her a second to understand what he means. Even when she realizes, she doesn't move to remedy the mistake.

They make eye contact for an intense second before Jeff turns away and takes up Annie's pacing. "California, huh?"

"Maybe," Annie wavers. "I don't know."

He's still pacing, and she notices his hands are clasped in white-knuckle fists, shaking. "And you called me here to…?"

"Help?" It comes out as a question.

Jeff seems to be at war with himself. From her place at the table, Annie can almost hear him talking to himself under his breath, and his pacing becomes more and more frantic, agitated.

"Jeff?" She raises out of her seat, moving toward him tentatively.

Her voice seems to break him out of his stupor and he lurches for her, grabbing onto her shoulders with painful, vise-like grips.

"Don't go," his voice is fervent and his eyes are manic. She looks up into his eyes hopefully, asking an unspoken question. "God, I'm such an asshole for saying this—and you should feel free to slap me or disregard everything I'm saying or whatever—but please don't leave me, Annie. Not you, too. I can handle Pierce, and I can even deal with Troy being gone. And I could maybe handle Abed or Shirley or Britta. But I can't lose you, not…" he gulps and winces as though the words taste bad on the way out of his mouth. "I can't. Don't go."

He looks so vulnerable, so pained.

And Annie finds herself nodding. After a moment, she adds a soft, nearly inaudible, "Okay."

Jeff incrementally relaxes his hold on her shoulders but doesn't move his hands.

They're so focused on each other, in their strained and emotionally-charged bubble, that when the door bangs open they both scream rather indelicately.

"The disco spider has returned to his technicolor web! Somebody hug me!"

"Troy!?"

###

###

"Is that our shower?"

"Yup."

"Why is Britta squeezing toothpaste out all over her stomach?"

"It's supposed to represent the pornography of capitalism. Don't ask me what that means."

"And the background noise?"

"Is the sound of gunfire over Britta reading the Constitution."

"I would have guessed Kanye's new album."

"Yeah, I told her it wasn't going to sound like she thought it would."

"How high was she?"

"Very."

"This beats The Bridge on the River Kwai," Troy asserts enthusiastically, grabbing a handful of popcorn from the bowl on Abed's lap. "This is my new favorite movie."

"I'm glad you're home."

"Yeah. I missed you, too, buddy."


	5. 2a of 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Word Count:** 8,630  
>  **Disclaimer:** These characters belong to Dan Harmon, etc., etc. I simply enjoy manipulating them.  
>  **Author's Note:** Thanks and love go to my beta, bethanyactually, who keeps me intelligible and makes me a better writer. The title of the story comes from a Four Star Mary song called "She Knows."  
>  I hope you guys enjoy this. I'm especially excited to release next week's chapter; see if you can guess what it'll be. ;)

Annie shows up at his apartment in cold-weather running gear bright and early the Saturday after finals week.

“What are you doing here?” he asks her after wrenching open the door, flabbergasted by her presence.

Annie shrugs, “I thought you might want a workout buddy.”

“Sure. How did you know I was going for a run?”

She shakes her head in exasperation, pushes past him into the apartment, and starts stretching her legs. “Jeff, you talk about your exercise regimen as often as Shirley talks about her children.”

“Huh,” Jeff says. He tries to stifle further curiosity—why look a gift horse in the mouth and all that—but he gets the feeling she’s there out of pity.

And why not? He’d acted pretty pitiful when she’d called him over Thursday evening.

“Abed and Rachel are on their way back from California early,” Annie offers from her place on the floor. “You’re coming to the welcome home dinner, right?”

Jeff nods absentmindedly.

“Troy went to see his family, but he should be back again around three.”

“Dandy,” Jeff offers nonchalantly.

“Dinner’s going to be at six.”

“Annie, I was at the meeting when we made the plans, remember? I don’t need debriefing.”

“I know,” she shrugs sheepishly, getting to her feet. “I’m just excited. I mean, Troy’s _back_.”

It’s not that Jeff’s ungrateful. He’s actually quite thrilled that Troy’s home and safe. But he’s also dealing with a skewer of guilt labeled ‘Annie’s Future’ that keeps twisting his insides.

Annie notices his grimace of pain. “Jeff,” she starts.

“Look, I feel like an ass,” he says before she can continue.

“You don’t have to.” Her face is so open and earnest, and he wants to take her words at face value.

But even if she doesn’t care that he fucked up, Jeff can’t just forgive himself. He’s been having trouble looking Shirley in the eye, and he feels ashamed every time Troy’s homecoming is mentioned.

So much for selflessness.

“I do, though. I’m holding you ba—”

“Hey!” Annie cuts him off. “You offered your opinion, and I made a decision on my own, okay? Anything that happened after,” Annie raises her eyebrows pointedly, obviously talking about Troy, “has no bearing on my decision. It’s done, and we don’t have to talk about it anymore. Not with each other and not with our friends.”

Jeff blows out all the air in his lungs. She’s giving him an out. A generous out. And he wants to take it.

“I…thanks, Annie.”

She smiles brightly at him. “Ready to run?”

Jeff grabs his keys and tucks them into his sweatpants pocket. “Are you sure you’re going to be able to keep up with me, midget?”

Annie scoffs. “Are those fighting words, Winger?”

He grins mischievously. “What if they are?”

“Then I say we make this interesting. First one who needs to slow to a walk has to buy the other coffee for a week.”

Jeff offers his hand for a shake as they get into the elevator. “Deal.”

He should know better than to challenge Annie to anything, though. She’s unwaveringly competitive and has some surprising stamina.

Jeff pushes himself as hard as he can, but Annie still wins.

###

Later that day, Annie and Troy are hanging out at the kitchen counter, waiting for everyone else—including their roommate—to arrive for dinner.

“How did your parents react to you being back?” Annie leans forward on her elbow, captivated by Troy’s stories of travel mishaps.

It’s all still feeling like a dream; she keeps expecting herself to blink awake in her pitch black room.

“My mom smacked me in the face and then made me a bunch of my favorite foods.” Troy sighs, rubbing his stomach in happy memory. “That’s when I knew I was really home.”

Annie smiles fondly and pulls Troy in for a millionth hug. “You are, and it’s wonderful!”

“Plus, I’m rich now,” Troy gloats. “Or I own shares in Hawthorne Wipes, whatever that means.”

There’s a knock at the door. “I’ll explain it to you later,” Annie assures him as she slips off her barstool.

Britta and Shirley are at the door with several boxes of pizza, and Britta practically shoves Annie out of the way before she can get a greeting out. “Troy, Troy, the wonder boy!” she exclaims with an ungraceful hip thrust and slide combination.

“Dear Lord, I know your plans are supreme, but why did you supply that girl, of all girls, with an uncontrollable libido?” Shirley asks loud enough for only Annie to hear.

Annie giggles and takes the pizza boxes from Shirley, carrying them into the kitchen.

“Britta!” Troy cheers exuberantly and draws her in for a hug. “You’re a sight for sore eyes. Boy, you don’t get to use that phrase often, but eyes get _pretty_ sore on boats with all the wind and saltwater and stuff.”

“I missed you,” Britta sighs into his shoulder.

They break apart, and Britta giggles nervously before darting off in the direction of the bathroom.

“Was she drunk or just extra weird?”

“Just weird, unfortunately for her. Give me some love?” Shirley holds out her arms. Troy steps into them and gives her a bear hug.

“I can’t believe I’ve gone fifteen months without a Shirley hug."

"I can't believe we've gone fifteen months without a single Troy letter." Shirley raises her brow threateningly as they step away from each other.

Troy hangs his head. "I'm sorry, mo— Er, Shirley."

She pulls him in for another hug. "Apology accepted. I'm just glad you're home. We can't wait to hear all about your adventures."

"Okay," Britta gusts back into the room. "I'm cool; we're cool."

Annie discreetly retrieves a tube of concealer from her purse which is resting on the counter and hands it to Britta. "You're a little puffy," she whispers, pointing to her own eyes.

"I know." Britta crosses her arms defiantly, but then she takes the makeup and makes a break for the bathroom again.

Another knock at the door diverts everyone's attention. "Come in," Annie calls.

Jeff breezes in with a carton of store-bought cookies. "Dessert," he explains, holding it out as evidence.

"Aww, Jeff, you know you didn't have to bring anything." Annie greets him with a quick hug and relieves him of the cookies.

Jeff just shrugs.

"Damn, what did I miss?" Troy teases. "Jeff put in the effort to bring something he wasn't threatened or forced to? This must be some kind of alternate timeline."

"Watch it." Jeff scowls. "I may be less cultured now, but while you’ve been sitting on your ass in a yacht, I’ve been pumping iron. I'll kick your ass." He puffs up his chest, and Shirley and Annie share a look of exasperation.

"Please," Annie uses her toes to poke Jeff's thigh, "I know you're sore from the ass kicking I gave you earlier. Now's probably not the time to pick a fight."

Jeff tries to cover his wince by glaring at Annie, but the faux-rage easily melts into a narrow-eyed smirk. "Gloating is rude."

"Said the loser."

"Are you going to hug me or is my harrowing homecoming less important to you than bantering to death?" Troy throws up his hands.

Jeff raises his eyebrows in surprise and gives Troy a manly hug, complete with back patting. "Picked up some vocabulary words on your journey, huh?"

"LeVar is, like, a walking thesaurus. Reading Rainbow wasn't a lie; dude likes to read."

Britta returns and tosses the concealer back to Annie. "Jeff," she acknowledges.

He nods in response, eyeing her suspiciously. "Are you already high? Your eyes are all bloodshot."

"Well then!" Annie claps her hands together once to demand everyone's attention when she sees the panicked look on Britta's face. "I just texted Abed, and he said they're getting off the highway. He should be home soon. How about we get started without him?"

"I haven't had pizza since Italy pizza," Troy sighs. "And that was all wrong. They put giant leaves on it and it's barely greasy at all."

"Tragedy," Jeff snorts as they all take seats around the kitchen table.

Everyone's had at least one piece—except for Troy, who's working on a third— by the time a key rattles in the front door. Troy stops making obscene moaning noises and turns expectantly, his face lighting up in adorable and unrestrained excitement.

Rachel and Abed step over the threshold and let several bags fall to the floor. Abed immediately zeros in on Troy, who's scrambling out of his seat, and Annie almost starts crying at the look of sheer amazement on Abed's face.

It's been painful and awkward and messy to watch Abed mourn for Troy, and Annie's so happy to know all of that is over.

Troy plows right into Abed, knocking his thin, tall frame back against the closed door. "Abed!"

Abed hesitates, unsure what to do with the hug, before tightly wrapping his arms around his best friend. "You're really back," he states plainly. Only those who know Abed well enough hear the relief and excitement in his hushed tone.

A loud hiccup draws the group's attention to Britta. "It's…so…beautiful." She's openly sobbing over her plate.

"Oh, Lord," Shirley mutters, a few tears leaking out of the corners of her own eyes.

And then everyone is crying and hugging and crying some more.

"Should I…?" Rachel's still by the door, a few of her bags slung across her shoulders. "This seems like a private moment. I'm just gonna…go." The mass group hug doesn't respond. "Okay then. I'll call you later, Abed."

"Cool. Cool cool cool," he responds from somewhere in the middle of the lump of bodies.

After they finally get ahold of themselves and Annie passes around a box of tissues, they settle around the table. It's a little haunting to know that Pierce will never be there to complete the group again, but this is as whole as they've been in a long time. Annie feels vulnerable, overflowing with emotion.

She's like an overblown balloon, uncomfortably tight but also light and bouncy.

"Did you have to leave before they made announcements about your category?" she asks Abed as everyone gleefully attacks the pizza.

He shakes his head. "I missed the screening, but they got to the awards Friday afternoon."

"And?" Annie prompts excitedly. Troy's paying close attention to the conversation.

"I won an award for direction and unique breakout feature."

Britta smacks Abed's shoulder with the back of her hand in congratulations. "That's awesome, buddy!"

Abed smiles to himself. "Yeah."

"Were you in a festival?" Troy pipes up.

"I submitted my Greendale commercial shoot some places, and it was picked up," Abed nods.

"That's excellent," Troy praises, clasping Abed's shoulder.

"Way to go, Abed," Jeff congratulates.

"Did you show anyone there rapping Jesus?" Shirley checks.

They spend the rest of the meal peppering Abed and Troy with questions until only a few pieces of uneaten pizza and some crusts are left.

"I should clean this up," Annie notes. But she can't bring herself to move from her reclined position. "Also, I ate too much."

"Allow me!" Troy jumps up eagerly. "I've been slacking in the roommate department." He winks at Annie, and she flushes gratefully. "Besides, I should get the gifts I got you guys."

Jeff perks up. "Annie, clean this mess up so Troy can give us things."

She sticks her tongue out at him. "If you want presents so much, you do it."

"I don't even live here."

"Gifts," Britta starts chanting, banging her fists on the table, "Gifts!"

Jeff and Abed join her: "Gifts! Gifts! Gifts!"

They don't stop until Troy sits back down at the table, a large paper bag on his lap. "Okay," he starts rummaging through the contents, "Britta first."

Britta claps excitedly. "Gimme, gimme!"

"You guys are children," Annie grumbles, now nursing a headache.

Troy passes Britta something black and book sized. She flips open the front cover and then looks to Troy for explanation.

He happily provides: "I used a disposable camera to take pictures of revolutionary graffiti and art and stuff from around the world. That first picture is from Cuba."

Britta flips greedily through the photo album. "He even marked what the pictures are and where they're from on the back!" She shows everyone as evidence. "Troy, I love it! Thank you."

He smiles, thrilled. "You're welcome. Jeff's next." Jeff pumps his fist. "Keep in mind that I didn't have a whole lot of money. It's not, like, extravagant or anything."

"So noted."

"Okay, so, LeVar's distant cousin or something like that was doing missionary work in Chile and we went to visit with her for a week."

"Britta's gift didn't get exposition," Jeff pouts impatiently.

"One of the kids," Troy talks over Jeff's complaint, "liked to make dolls." He reaches into his bag and pulls out a messily stitched ragdoll that kinda-sorta resembles Jeff. "So I asked him to make one like you."

"Forehead!" Jeff protests, pointing to the doll's most prominent feature.

"I may have over exaggerated my descriptions," Troy admits guiltily. "Anyway, when I was leaving, you said you'd never been out of Colorado. Well now you have! Or a version of you has, anyway."

"Hokey," Jeff accuses. But Annie takes note of the way Jeff's blinking rapidly, trying to banish a fresh wave of tears. "Thanks, buddy," he chokes out after a moment.

Troy nods and pats Jeff's shoulder lovingly. "For Shirley," he continues after a pause, "We took a special trip to Jerusalem." Troy removes an ornate Bible and a piece of tie-dye cloth from his bag and hands them over. "I technically made the apron at the hotel, but it's still from Jerusalem."

Shirley unfolds the fabric to reveal a handmade version of her "He is Risen" cooking apron.

"Sweetie," Shirley's voice is thick with tears and gratitude. She stands and gestures for Troy to come hug her.

While they're sharing their moment, Jeff leans over to peek in the bag of gifts. Annie slaps his shoulder.

"Cheater," she accuses.

"I already got my present; who cares if I know what else is in there."

"If everyone thought like that," Britta starts in her morally superior voice.

Jeff cuts her off. "Then we'd all be soulless automatons playing into the government's hands or something?"

Britta purses her lips angrily and glares at him.

"Okay," Troy and Shirley settle back into their seats, and Troy rummages around in his bag some more. "I have two things for Annie, too."

He produces a single photograph and hands it over. The picture shows some yellowish-tan bricks. Every crack and crevice is brimming with slips of paper. "The Western Wall?" Annie guesses after a moment.

"Yup! I stuck a paper in it for you." Troy leans over the table to point out a specific sheet. Upon closer inspection, Annie can make out her name scrawled in Troy's jerky script on the corner of a slip poking out of the bricks.

"That's really sweet. Thank you."

"And," Troy produces a silky-looking dress with bursts of vibrant colors, "this is from India. It doesn't have a special story. It's just pretty and made me think of you."

"Aww," Annie coos.

"We traded a signed photo of LeVar for it. There are Trekkies all over the place," Troy informs Abed.

Abed nods and stares intensely at Troy. "Did you bring anything for me?"

"Duh- _doy_. You're my best friend." Fishing something out of the bottom of the bag, Troy tosses the empty sack aside before holding out a CD case with a disc inside. "You know how the Inspector Spacetime Halloween special's final battle takes place at Stonehenge?" Abed doesn't even grace the question with an answer; he just raises his eyebrows expectantly. "LeVar has a lot of geeky friends in the UK who helped us film the scene. We made sure it'd be super easy to edit yourself in."

Abed grasps the disc in both hands, nodding. "Are you in costume?"

"Is that even a question?"

They go to do their handshake, but the timing is a little off. Abed looks horrified, but Troy shrugs easily. "We'll get it back soon. We're probably just rusty."

Abed nods, but Annie notices that the worry doesn't leave his eyes.

Once everyone's gone and Troy is snoring loudly on the pullout couch, exhausted, Annie ventures out of her room to quietly knock on Abed's door.

"Abed?" she whispers. "Are you in there?" She knocks again before cracking open the door to peak in. He's not in bed. "Huh." Annie eases the door shut again before checking the kitchen. When she doesn't find him in there, she knocks on the bathroom door. "Abed?" she asks worriedly. "You awake?"

He answers right away. "Yes."

"Can I come in?"

A pause. "Yeah, sure."

Annie slips inside and then closes the door behind her. Abed is sprawled out in the bathtub, still clutching Troy's gift.

She perches on the closed toilet. "You okay?"

Abed sighs. "I don't know how to answer that."

"That's okay," she assures. Then whispers, "I don't know if I'm okay either. It's still so surreal, you know?"

Abed nods, the back of his head _thunking_ against the lip of the tub. "All I've wanted was for Troy to come back. Now he's back, and I'm confused."

Annie slides down onto the ground so she can reach into the tub and take Abed's hand. "We all are. I'm sure Troy is, too. A year is a long time; people change a lot in a year. But that doesn't have to be a bad thing."

"I don't change," Abed points out mournfully. "What if Troy's evolved past—" he cuts himself off, unable to finish.

"Hey," Annie soothes, squeezing Abed's hand. "We're family, remember? No amount of time or space changes that."

Abed squeezes back after a moment.

"I should go to bed," he says after a stretch of silence.

Grateful, Annie stands up. She waits for Abed to join her, but he seems to need more time. Understanding that he wants to be left alone, Annie walks over to the door. She turns back before closing it behind her. "Goodnight, Abed."

He gives her a reassuring thumbs-up. "Goodnight."

Annie settles back in her bed, but it takes a while for her worry to dissipate enough for sleep.

###

"Are we there yet?" Chang asks for the billionth time from the backseat of their rented van.

Abed turns in his captain's chair to point out the window. "See that giant building with all the windows?" Chang nods. "That's the convention center."

It's a week and a half till Christmas and Jeff should definitely be spending his time sprawled on his couch watching mindless TV, splurging on hot chocolate, and basking in the glories of central heating. Instead, he's driving to a nerdy convention in a packed vehicle with a broken center console. That he _agreed_ to attend. _With Chang_.

Annie's in the passenger seat poring over the con's schedule. "Oh," she perks up, "there's a panel on how to do sci-fi makeup tomorrow at 10:30." She circles something with her purple pen. "It'll end just in time for the discussion about gender roles and the fantasy genre."

"Count me in," Britta pipes up from her seat in the back with Chang.

"I hope there are still tickets available," Troy sighs from the second captain's chair. He'd been pretty bummed to hear that the group (sans Shirley, who opted out to spend time with her family) was going on a long weekend trip when he'd just gotten back from sailing around the world. Though the prospects weren't great, he decided to come along anyway to try to snag a ticket.

They had gotten a group suite at a nearby hotel, so even if he couldn't get into the con he'd still be able to hang around.

"We'll figure something out," Britta assures Troy. "Hey, Annie, does Dom live around here?"

"Yeah, does he? He should come visit us. I want to see if he actually looks like white bread," Troy muses.

"This is Denver," Annie answers without looking up from her planning. "I don't know exactly how close he lives, but he's around here somewhere."

"You should invite him over once we check in," Britta enthuses. Jeff glares at her in the rearview mirror and she shrugs. "Or, you know, whatever."

"His family leaves for some crazy long trip on Saturday. I'm sure he's packing."

Annie's disinterest catches Jeff's attention. "You haven't seen him for a while," he tries to sound nonchalant. "Don't you at least want to check if he's free?"

She examines Jeff as if he's sprouted a second nose on his forehead. "At this point, all I want is to stand." She flexes her legs as best she can in the cramped space, but her bags are gathered at her feet. "Plus, I was kinda looking forward to an evening in with you guys."

Much to Abed's dismay, they had decided to miss Thursday's festivities in favor of driving down during the day and resting up before the real action starts on Friday. Jeff is actually looking forward to relaxing with his friends in a swanky hotel, too.

He takes a wrong turn off the highway exit ramp, and all conversation is dropped until they're able to navigate to the hotel parking garage.

It's seven o'clock on a mid-December evening, so everyone hustles to gather their bags and get out of the biting cold.

The lobby of the hotel has a rustic feel, with red-stained wooden planks crisscrossing high above their heads, exposed brick, and mounted antlers hung on the walls.

Britta and Annie make a beeline for the bathroom, Troy and Abed collapse on the couches in the center of the open space, and Chang's attention is drawn by a large, rather disturbing moose head near the entrance. Since the reservation is under his name, Jeff approaches the front desk to get them checked in.

It takes the cheerful, bespectacled desk worker several minutes to process everything. He hands Jeff three copies of the room key and a handy list of nearby attractions and scheduled hotel activities, and then gives him directions to the room.

"We're good to go," Jeff says as he approaches the couches where Annie and Britta have joined the boys.

Suddenly, there's a loud _clang_ as Chang knocks over a potted plant. Annie immediately gets up from her seat and marches over, already chastising him. "I thought I told you not to touch anything. Go! Sit on the couches and don't say a word." Chang does as she says, tail tucked between his legs.

She rights the plant with an apologetic smile and wave toward the front desk.

"As I was saying," Jeff shoots a pointed look at Chang. "We're all checked in. I have three keys," he takes them out of his wallet, "so we'll have to do the buddy system this weekend." Jeff hands one key to Annie and one to Abed.

"What, I can't be trusted with a key?" Britta scowls.

" _No_ ," Jeff and Annie counter at the same time.

"You lose your car every time you park it; what makes you think you can keep track of a small plastic rectangle for three days?" Annie adds.

"Don't feel bad," Chang whispers loudly, "they don't trust me, either."

Britta glares sourly at him.

As the group follows Jeff down one of the main hallways toward the elevators, they pass a few people decked out in convention-appropriate gear. One person's even wearing a full-body Chewbacca suit.

Their room is on the fifth floor, and it's technically two rooms connected by a doorway that locks from either side.

There's a bathroom with two sinks, a shower, and a luxurious bathtub just to the left of the entrance. Chang immediately wanders in and starts sniffing around (literally, like an irritated dog). The first room then opens up to a wide space with two twin beds, a chest with a TV situated on top, a large window, a pull-out couch, and a couple of arm chairs. The second room has a spacious queen bed and a kitchen with a bar and counter seating.

"They said at least six people could sleep in this room, but I guess I should've asked for the specific setup," Jeff rubs a hand on the back of his neck as he stares at the queen bed.

"I call a twin!" Abed yells, throwing his bags down on the bed closest to the bathroom.

"I've got the other one!" Troy calls quickly and hurls himself down on the bed by the window.

"Four people are definitely not going to fit on that," Britta points to the remaining bed.

Annie's scoping out the view of the first bedroom's window. "I think this is a foldout couch," she points out.

Sure enough, once the cushions are removed, a creaky frame the size of a full mattress unfolds from the body of the couch. Abed helpfully calls the front desk, and they inform him the materials to make the bed are on their way up.

"Two people are going to have to sleep there," Annie points out, scrunching her nose distastefully. "We should probably split by gender."

"You're going to stick me with Chang?" Jeff whines at the same time Britta makes a sour face and protests, "That's sexist."

"Fine," Annie throws up her hands in annoyance. "Nose goes."

She's quick to touch her own nose, and Jeff is just a hair behind her, leaving Britta as the loser.

"Shit," Britta grumbles.

"Looks like we're bunking together," Annie says, turning to Jeff and smiling widely.

Jeff shrugs and grins discreetly, trying not to look too excited or nervous. He hadn't counted on this, but he's certainly not upset by the idea of sharing a bed with Annie.

Britta raises an eyebrow and makes obscene kissing faces at him.

He flashes his middle finger at her."All the shampoo here smells like ginseng. I think someone knew I was coming and is trying to communicate with me," Chang emerges from the bathroom.

"That's racist," Troy reprimands.

"Aww, you guys got the good beds," Chang pouts."You're sleeping with me," Britta's lip curls as she pats the couch.

"Awwww snap!" Chang pumps his fist.

"Let me be clear," Britta gets in his face and points a threatening finger at the tip of Chang's nose. "I can hide pepper spray in places you've never even dreamed of; I lived in New York. Touch me and suffer the consequences."

Chang backs off, effectively threatened.

"Can we stream movies?" Abed asks Jeff.

There's a knock on the door. "As long as you pay me back for them," Jeff answers as he moves to open the door.

Abed clucks his tongue. "That's okay. I brought some."

Jeff rolls his eyes and thanks the room service attendant when she hands over scratchy cotton sheets.

Annie takes them from Jeff and starts making the couch bed.

"What've you got?" Troy asks Abed excitedly, bouncing up and down on his bed.

"Both _Kill Bill_ movies, the first season of the third inspector, _The Breakfast Club_ for Annie."

"Oh," Annie interjects, "let's watch that!"

" _Robin Hood: Men in Tights_ , _The Dark Knight Rises_ , and _The Avengers_."

"Wow, are you sure you're even going to have time to go to the con?" Jeff teases.

"Everybody likes options, Jeff," Abed informs him, serious as a heart attack.

" _Riiight_. Well, as an adult, I'm going to be in the other room. Doing adult things."

"Enjoy your colonoscopy and the fear that your existence is futile," Troy says.

Jeff opens his mouth to respond but decides against it and moves into the second room. He closes the door behind him but leaves it unlocked.

After about forty minutes, someone knocks softly.

"Come in," Jeff calls from his place on the left side of the bed.

It's Annie who slips into the room and lets the door fall closed again. "Hey," she greets before gingerly joining him on the bed, careful not to disturb the mess of papers around him as she settles into a cross-legged sitting position. "Whatcha doing?"

"Grades are due tomorrow and I haven't finished looking over my classes' finals."

"Jeff," Annie admonishes.

"Hey, I may have changed, but not that much. Make yourself useful?"

When she nods, Jeff hands her a stack of tests and the accompanying rubric.

They grade in silence for a little while. "So what movie did they decide on?" Jeff asks. It was easier to concentrate when Annie wasn't sitting right next to him, smelling homey and looking gorgeous even in her yoga pants and worn Riverside High hoodie.

"Kill Bill," Annie responds as she draws a little smiley face at the top of the test she's working on. "I like a well-choreographed fight scene as much as the next girl, but I don't think spurting blood is funny."

"Don't let Abed hear you say that."

Annie grins at him, setting the finished test aside. "That ship has sailed. He wanted to celebrate my moving into the apartment with a Tarantino marathon. I insulted Kill Bill and he stole my toiletries to hide around Greendale for a month. I never did find this loofah I really liked."

Jeff pouts out his lower lip in commiseration. "It's always sad when a good loofah meets its end." 

Annie points at him enthusiastically. "Right? Anyway, this is really impressive," she gestures to the clutter around them. "I'm proud of you, Jeff." 

He snorts.

"No, I am," Annie insists. "You're organized, and — I mean, I've only looked at three of the tests, but it looks like your students are actually learning what you're teaching them. That's a big deal, and I'm proud of you."

"Or they're learning what to cram right before the test," he offers cynically. But Jeff can't help feeling a rush of appreciation at Annie's praise.

The grade silently for another moment.

"Can I ask you a question?" Jeff asks suddenly.

"Of course," Annie shakes her head at him as if the answer should have been obvious.

"Did something happen between you and Dom?"

She bites her bottom lip and averts her gaze. "What kind of something?"

"I don't know, something bad. You don't seem very interested in him anymore."

Annie quirks an eyebrow at Jeff. "I told you, I wanted to do this tonight," she gestures to the room.

"It's not just that." Jeff pauses. When he speaks again, his voice is hushed. "When you were trying to decide if you were gonna move to California, you weren't even considering him. Or at least he wasn't important enough to add to your pros and cons list."

Annie exhales a drawn-out sigh. "Well yeah. Dom's…a good person, and I'm happy to know him. But I've barely been dating him for three months. He's not...," She takes a moment, considering. "He's not my family. He's not a reason to stay."

She glances shyly up at him from under her lashes, and Jeff feels his heart thump excitedly, painfully.

He gets what she's not saying: that he _is_ a reason to stay.

"Annie."

God, why does his voice sound so pleading?

Why are her eyes so hypnotic and, fuck, so _never-ending_?

Jeff feels himself leaning forward, drawn to her like a goddamn moth to a flame.

And she responds in kind, experimentally sliding down onto the bed, her upper body propped up on her elbow, and tilting her head up incrementally. Giving him access.

"Is there any good booze in here?" The door bursts open and Britta saunters in, heading straight for the kitchen bar.

Jeff jerks back, and Annie actually falls off the bed in her surprise.

Britta bugs her eyes out at Jeff from over the counter. "Did I interrupt something?"

Jeff bares his teeth at her and Annie pops up from the ground, brushing herself off. "Sha-nah," she stutters awkwardly, her face a bright red. "We were just grading papers."

Britta smirks, "I'm sure."

"You know, the bathroom is going to get really crowded if we don't stagger. I'm going to shower."

"I bet you are," Britta's eyes glint mirthfully.

Annie doesn't even bother finding her bag of toiletries. She grabs her bulging luggage and hurries off to the bathroom.

"I hate you," Jeff informs Britta.

Britta fists a bottle of something and stacks some plastic cups to take into the other room. "Have fun _doing adult things_ ," she waggles her eyebrows and mimes jerking off.

Jeff throws a pillow at her face, but the door slams closed just in time.

###

Annie is the first to wake up the next morning. She floats into consciousness, and lies still for a few quiet, peaceful moments.

Jeff shifts in his sleep next to her, his elbow gently nudging between Annie's shoulder blades. Their pocket of the world under the hotel's downy comforter is so warm, and Annie lets her mind linger on domestic imaginings.

She wouldn't mind waking up to this every morning.

Carefully so as to not wake him, Annie turns over so she can look at Jeff.

His face is relaxed with sleep, his lips gently parted and his breath fanning over her softly every time he exhales.

She fists the comforter to keep herself from reaching out and stroking his cheek with the pads of her fingers.

She almost let him kiss her last night.

No, fuck that, she had almost lunged forward in attack, hungry for the taste of his lips.

But she's in a committed relationship and that would be…dishonorable.

Whimpering softly in frustration, Annie decides it's time to get up.

They left the door between the rooms open for the night, so Annie quietly pads to the bathroom to brush her teeth and hair.

To supplement their food budget, she brought along some boxed and canned goods. She slips a packet of strawberry Pop-Tarts into the kitchen toaster for breakfast.

The smell of food rouses the others, and soon the suite is alive with the sounds of rustling and subdued morning conversation.

Jeff wakes with a groan. "Morning sleepy head," Annie chirps as the toaster releases her breakfast.

He sits up, looking a little disoriented, and scrubs a hand through his hair. "I don't even wanna look in a mirror right now, do I?"

Annie cocks her head and grimaces. “It’s not _that_ bad.”

“Excuse me.” Jeff slides out of bed and heads toward the bathroom.

"Prissy," Britta says as she passes him on her way into the kitchen.

"How did you sleep?" Annie asks her, taking a bite of her toaster pastry.

"With Chang," Britta snaps.

"What's for breakfast?" Troy wanders sleepily into the room, rubbing at his eyes.

"I have strawberry and brown sugar cinnamon Pop-Tarts, a loaf of bread for toast, oatmeal, and peanut butter."

Everyone congregates in the small space to make themselves something, so Annie gets out of their way and sits on the edge of the bed.

Jeff breezes back into the room as everyone finds their own place to perch and eat, looking calm and refreshed.

Britta licks peanut butter from her lips and jabs, "Winger, when your hair sticks up in the morning, I can see the bald patch developing on the back of your head."

"You take that back," Jeff threatens.

"It goes nicely with the grey you're starting to rock."

"Britta," Annie intervenes, "what's the matter with you?"

"I'm up before the sun and I slept a foot from a psychopath."

"Hey!" Chang protests. "I'm a psychopath with feelings."

"Okay, I think a coffee run is an order," Annie suggests before Jeff or Chang can attack Britta. "Jeff?" She turns to him and widens her eyes pleadingly.

"Fine," he grumbles, "I'll go. But I expect an apology when I get back."

Britta makes a face at him as he exits the room.

"We should start getting ready if we want to make it to the center early and get a ticket for Troy," Abed says, pointing to the microwave clock.

The group hurriedly finishes their breakfast and then the rooms devolve into chaos.

It's like the opening night before a stage production, actors scrambling around in various stages of undress and makeup.

Abed and Troy are, of course, going as The Inspector and Constable Reggie, and Chang is going as a Blorgon.

After a lot of prodding from Annie, Abed let her choose a costume that wasn't from the Inspector Spacetime franchise.

Instead, she and Britta are going as Cordelia and Buffy from the “Buffy the Vampire Slayer” episode “The Wish”.

Annie had picked through thrift stores for a deep crimson dress and leather jacket. The dress she finally settled on is a little too bright and her jacket is browner than it is red, but she's satisfied with the effect. The dress clings tightly to her curves, and—thanks to slit Annie cut on the left side that extends from the ground to her upper thigh, as per the original costume—shows off her legs.

Britta's costume was much easier to put together. She already owned a grey tank top and cargo pants. Annie had gotten her a cross necklace and wooden stake to complete the look.

Fully costumed, Britta's sitting on the edge of Troy's bed as Annie braids her hair. Jeff slinks back into the room, a drink carrier in either hand, and stops in his tracks when he notices Annie. "Y-you look nice," he stutters at her cleavage.

Annie does an obliging twirl, earning whoops from Troy, Abed, and Chang. "Thank you," she grins, basking in the attention.

"Objectification of women," Britta huffs under her breath.

"You look nice, too, bitter beans," Jeff deposits a cup of coffee in her hands.

She scowls at him and takes a sip from her cup.

“Okay,” Annie pats her on the shoulder after a moment, “turn around so I can do your makeup.”

As Annie applies a generous amount of eyeliner around Britta’s eyes, Abed and Troy help wrestle Chang into his costume. Jeff disappears into the bathroom with his coffee and one of his bags.

After a few moments, Annie takes a step back to check out her handy work.

“She looks pretty good,” Abed commends.

“Maybe after the makeup workshop I’ll be able to make the scar more convincing,” she nitpicks, handing Britta a hand mirror so she can see for herself.

“Oooh,” Britta snarls experimentally at her reflection. “I look _badass_. Thanks, Annie.”

“Now do me!” Annie claps her hands excitedly and produces the picture she printed from the internet for reference. “Like this.”

Britta finishes her makeup quickly and is running a brush through Annie’s hair while she hums happily when Jeff emerges from the bathroom.

He’s wearing a long-sleeved green shirt with drawn-on abs and his face is covered with green makeup.

Everyone stares, mystified.

Jeff shrugs. “What?”

Abed is the first to shake his surprise. “We didn’t think you’d be dressing up.”

“If I’m going to be hanging out with nerds all day, I might as well be worshipped by said nerds.”

“Cool,” Abed nods. “Cool cool cool.”

“Alright,” Britta stops tugging at Annie’s hair. “How did I do?”

Annie looks into the mirror and tries to hide her chagrin. “It’s…a good try,” she offers after a moment.

Britta throws up her hands. “I’m not good at this shit.”

Troy gently hip bumps her out of the way. “I got this. I had to babysit my cousins a lot, and they liked to play Pretty, Pretty Princess.” Britta cocks an interested eyebrow at him. “But, you know,” Troy clears his throat, “in a manly way.” He tinkers with Annie’s hair for a bit after glancing at the picture. “How’s this?” he asks, handing over the mirror.

Annie squeals in delight and bounces up off the bed to give Troy a hug. “It’s perfect! Thank you!”

With everyone dressed, the group piles into the rented car. The ride over to the convention center is short, but the parking lot is a mess of cars. After several minutes of circling, they manage to find a space not too far from one of the entrances.

As they approach, Abed points out a sign that informs passersby the daily passes are sold out.

“That’s some serious timeline darkness,” Troy pouts.

“Quick,” Chang flops forward, trying to lift up the bottom of his costume, “get under! We’ll smuggle you in.”

Troy eyes him skeptically but seems to be considering it.

“You guys, we might all get kicked out,” Annie worries.

“Here,” Britta produces her ticket from one of the pockets of her cargo pants and hands it to Troy. “I’ll meet you guys in there.”

“Britta—” Troy starts to protest.

But she stomps her foot in irritation, looking pretty intimidating in her costume.

“What are you going to do?” Jeff asks dryly.

“Find a way in,” Britta smirks.

“You’re not going to do anything illegal, are you?” Annie checks.

Britta rolls her eyes. “There’ll be scalpers, I’d bet my bank account on it. You guys go. I’ll meet up with you later.” Everyone hesitates for a moment. “Go!” Britta commands.

So they do.

“It feels weird, leaving her behind,” Troy glances back.

“If we don’t see her by 11 we’ll send someone to look for her,” Jeff reasons.

The Denver convention center is spacious and daunting. Just inside the front entrance there are three escalators larger than Annie’s ever seen. Giant circular light fixtures hang from the ceiling. The carpets are thick and padded, and every step she takes feels springy and light. The vast amount of space makes Annie feel tinier than usual.

And all the space is filled with the buzzing din of hundreds of voices talking at once.

It’s sensory overload, and their group observes all the action quietly as they venture further into the building.

They eventually make it to a central room packed with booths, vendors, and several tables for lounging.

Annie scopes out an empty table, and everyone sits down. She pulls a map of the building and her marked-up schedule from her purse and spreads them out on the table. “We should establish a meeting place in case one of us gets lost.”

“How about the fake palm trees in the front lobby,” Abed suggests.

“Fake palm trees, fake palm trees, fake palm trees?” Annie points to the other members of the group, checking.

“Fine with me,” Jeff shrugs.

A petite girl dressed as what Annie’s pretty sure is the fifth Inspector tentatively approaches their table. “Nigel Cuthbertson, sir?”

Annie snorts when Jeff responds exuberantly in a bad English accent. “Well, ‘ello there. What can I do for you?”

The girl squeals and does a few excited jumps. “Holy crap, I can’t believe it’s actually you! None of the forums said anything about you coming, but this is so cool! Can I have your autograph?”

“But o’course, miss…?”

“Jenny. O’Neal. Please. Oh my god, thank you!”

Jeff signs a picture she hands him and then gives it back with a smile that could stop hearts.

The girl, Jenny, flutters for a moment before darting off to a table a few feet away to show her friends and point at Jeff.

“I don’t condone you lying to people,” Annie says.

Jeff shoos away her concern, unbothered. “I live a life of moral ambiguity.”

“Plus, how do you explain who we are?” Annie continues, gesturing to everyone at the table. “Why are you in your own character’s costume?”

“Why did your English accent start to sound a little Irish?” Abed adds helpfully.

“People aren’t going to care about that shit,” Jeff defends. “They want their thirty seconds of recognition; they want to pretend they have a connection to something bigger than they are. Besides, if anyone asks questions, I’ll hit ‘em with some Winger charm.” He smiles slickly and Annie finds her resolve softening.

Winger charm indeed.

“Are we going to split up, or do I have to hang out with you _losers_ all day?” Chang inserts.

They all turn to stare blankly at him.

“Your costume goes with ours,” Abed points out.

“So I’ll randomly attack you over the course of the day. I want to go explore,” Chang whines.

“I don’t know if it’s such a good idea to let you wander off alone,” Annie winces apologetically at him.

Chang grunts in frustration. “I’m a grown man, Boobs McGee.”

“Who once started a coup at our school,” she volleys back.

“You have a cell phone, right?” Troy cuts in. Chang nods. “Check in every half hour or something. Cool?” he looks at Annie.

“Yeah, fine,” she relents.

Chang darts off.

“He had a decent point. Are we splitting up?” Jeff checks. “Because I most certainly don’t want to sit through,” he consults Annie’s schedule, “The Science of Cartoon Space.”

“Really? Because that sounds _awesome_ ,” Troy says.

“I planned my schedule months ago.” Abed shrugs, “You guys can do whatever you want.”

“Does your schedule include The Science of Cartoon Space?” Troy asks expectantly.

Abed shakes his head. “There’s a panel discussion on Sci-Fi lighting design happening at the same time.”

“How long is it?”

“An hour and a half,” Abed answers, waggling his eyebrows excitedly.

“I don’t want to sit through that,” Troy pouts.

“Well maybe you should have been there for the schedule planning.”

He says it so matter-of-factly that it takes Annie a second to realize Abed’s angry.

Troy does a double take as well. “Abed?”

“I’ve got somewhere I need to be.” He stands up from the table. “I’ll meet you in an hour, giant palm tree.” He shoots a finger gun at Troy, and then he’s gone.

“Um, what just happened?” Troy asks incredulously.

“I’m taking a shot in the dark here, but I think your boyfriend’s upset,” Jeff smirks.

Annie places a hand over one of Troy’s clenched fists. “You were gone a long time. I think he’s a little hurt.”

Troy nods, looking all puppy-dog sad and peeking at Annie and Jeff from under his eyelashes.

“Ugh,” Jeff groans. “You want us to go to some stupid event, don’t you?”

Troy pouts out his lower lip and bats his eyelashes.

“Fuck.” Jeff slides Annie’s schedule across the table. “What do you want to do?”

An hour later, the three of them emerge from a display of German weapons, Troy bouncing around. “Did you see that eight pound sword? The _die-hander_!”

“It’s called a _Zweihänder_. It translates to two-hander,” Annie explains.

“Whatever, it was huge and awesome.”

“And further proof the Germans have an inferiority complex about not measuring up.” Jeff playfully elbows Troy in the side.

They get on one of the giant escalators and ride down to the lobby.

As they approach the cluster of three palm trees butted up against the front wall of windows, Troy nervously glances at his wristwatch.

Annie notices and smooths a hand along Troy’s back. “I’m sure he’ll be here any minute,” she says reassuringly.

Sure enough, Abed strolls over moments later, nodding in greeting. “What did you guys do?”

“Looked at swords and stuff,” Troy offers tentatively.

Abed flashes a double thumbs-up. “There’s a panel with four different Inspectors in a half hour. You going to go?”

Troy lets out a gusty sigh, relieved. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

“Cool cool cool.”

“Does that mean we’re free?” Jeff leans down to whisper in Annie’s ear.

She pokes his side in warning.

“Did you happen to see Britta?” Annie asks Abed. “She hasn’t called or anything.”

Abed shakes his head. “I don’t know what happened to Chang, either.”

Annie worries at her lower lip with her teeth.

All of a sudden, there’s a whirlwind of activity near the front entrance. A man dressed in a security guard uniform is manhandling a small figure through the check in. The figure is shouting, but from a distance and in all the hubbub, Annie can only tell that they’re making a lot of noise. The individual words are unintelligible.

The guard is forcing the man closer and closer to the palm trees, and after a second of buzzing confusion, Annie recognizes the small figure as Chang. Britta is half a step behind the officer.

“What’s going on?” Annie steps forward.

Britta rolls her eyes. “Chang was trying to climb the giant bear outside.”

“I plead insanity!” Chang raves. “Just ask them; I’m totally nuts.”

Ignoring Chang, the officer says. “ _I See What You Mean_ is sacred to this center. They’re very picky about who gets close to it.”

The group stares in confusion.

“That’s the name of the giant bear,” Britta explains.

“How do you play into this escapade?” Jeff quirks an eyebrow at the way Britta’s fingers are curled around the security guard’s shoulder.

“Jones here got me in for a discount,” she smiles, smitten, up at Jones. “He’s excellent. But it’s on the hush-hush.”

Annie takes a moment to examine the guard. His black hair is carefully spiked up into a prickly, flat table. It looks crusty with gel, and she idly wonders if the hairdo would hold up a book without bending. He has a mustache but no beard, and his beady grey eyes are set close together on his face. His uniform sports what Annie assumes is a mustard stain, and his shirt is partially untucked from his belted slacks.

In essence, he’s exactly the kind of guy Britta would pick up at a convention.

“I was just doin’ a pretty girl a favor,” Jones grins predatorily at Britta. “But, seriously, don’t say nothin’ to nobody.

“Tight heavy lid,” Abed confirms, “We got it.”

“And keep your lunatic under control.” He shoves Chang toward the group and gives Abed a suspicious side-eye. “I won’t be so nice next time I catch him pokin’ his nose around where it don’t belong.”

“Aye-aye, Officer Pornstache,” Jeff says just loud enough for Annie to catch. She snickers.

“I’ll behave,” Chang promises. “But, honestly, totally crazy. The things I do are out of my control.”

Troy elbows Chang in the side. Jones pats Britta on the ass before walking away, looking back a few times to glare at Chang.

“Isn’t he great?” Britta clasps her hands under her chin and sighs dreamily.

Jeff raises a skeptical eyebrow. “Sure. In a leering, would pay to watch you make out with your girlfriend kind of way.”

Britta scoffs. “Whatever. I’m here now. Let’s get our nerd on!”

“The gender roles panel is about to start,” Annie points out.

“Let’s get a move on, sista.”

“Peace out, suckas!” Chang blows raspberries at the group before running off into the crowd.

Troy watches him go. “That’s not good.”

Jeff shrugs. “He can’t do much damage here. There’re guards everywhere.”

Excited to split, everyone agrees with Jeff’s assessment easily.

The group breaks up and comes back together several times throughout the day. They get lunch at a Star Wars-themed food cart. They pose for a bunch of group photos at various displays. When Troy and Abed aren’t attending the same workshop, Troy hangs out with Annie or bugs Jeff.

Around four, everyone’s exhausted and ready to go back to the hotel.

“Wait,” Annie lets out a panicked shout as they’re getting into the car. “We forgot about Chang!”

“Fuck.” Jeff concentrates for a moment. “When was the last time he checked in?”

“He was there at lunch—I remember he had the Jabba smoothie and the Han’s Choice Hamburger,” Britta reminds them. “Did we see him after that?”

Everyone is quiet as they rack their brains.

Finally, Abed says, “No, I don’t think we did.”

“Damn.” Troy pales. “We lost our lunatic.”


	6. 2b of 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Word Count:** 7,585  
>  **Disclaimer:** These characters belong to Dan Harmon, etc., etc. I simply enjoy manipulating them.  
>  **Author's Note:** I'm sorry for the late chapter. My magnificent beta, bethanyactually, told me I could throw her under the bus for the lateness, but she totally had an understandable excuse. So please send her love. The title of the story comes from a Four Star Mary song called "She Knows."  
>  Without further ado, please enjoy my rendition of J/A capers!

It’s like someone flips a switch.

One minute Annie is making a joke about Britta’s taste in men, her usual bouncy self. The next, she’s focused and thirsty for justice, a bloodhound with an advanced predilection for planning.

She addresses the group after she tries Chang’s cell phone with no luck. “Troy and Britta, take my key and go back to the room in case Chang finds his way back to the hotel. Abed, see if you can find the head of security and scope out the video surveillance situation. Jeff and I will retrace Chang’s known steps and ask around to see if anyone saw him.”

“Roger that, Christopher Pratt,” Britta takes the key.

Annie gives her a funny look, and Jeff glares at her.

“Going now,” Britta says meekly.

“Call us when you need to be picked up,” Troy waves as he gets into the van.

As the car pulls away, Annie, Jeff, and Abed make their way back into the center. Once they’re inside, Abed heads straight for the security booth, waving goodbye to Jeff and Annie.

“Where to?” he defers to her.

“I’m in the mood for an Amidala Ensalada, how about you?” Annie waggles her eyebrows.

Jeff plays along. “I could go for a leaf.”

They march in step back to the vendors’ room. On the way, Annie stops a pair of people dressed in Thing 1 and Thing 2 costumes and another person dressed in business casual to ask if they’ve seen a short, Asian man dressed as a Blorgon.

They haven’t.

“Shit,” Annie kicks the cart when they get there and notice a scrawled sign that reads _be back in 30_.

Jeff looks around, assessing the situation. Pathways are created by the placement of the carts, and they’re in a large room with a concrete floor and a tall, tall ceiling. Though spacious, the con has managed to pack thousands of food stands and retailers in the place.

This means there’s a possibility the surrounding carts would have noticed suspicious activity at Star Wares. A short, Asian man in a Blorgon costume, for instance.

“We should ask the other vendors,” Jeff says, pointing across the path.

Annie snaps her fingers, looking pleased.

“Excuse me, sir?” she asks as they approach a gyro cart.

“What can I get for you?” The man looks happy to have customers.

Annie’s about to direct the conversation into interrogation territory, but Jeff cuts in, noticing an opportunity. “We’ll have one of your chicken gyros to split. And a soda.” Annie shoots him a confused look, but Jeff tilts his head, signaling that she should follow his lead. She shrugs and relaxes, quickly adjusting. “How’s business?” Jeff asks casually.

“Oh, it’s not too bad. I should learn to stop taking these kinds of gigs, though.” The man sighs heavily as he puts something in the fryer and then fills a cup with soda.

“These kinds of gigs?” Annie questions.

“Conventions,” the man clarifies. “Normal food doesn’t sell very well here.” He’s clearly bitter.

“Normal?” Jeff prompts.

“Everyone here wants the _experience_ ,” the man frowns. “See that cart over there?” He points at Star Wares. Jeff and Annie nod eagerly. “That cart has been exploding with customers. Those sheep don’t care about the quality of their meal. Sheep just want nerd-themed food. It’s madness!”

Jeff cocks an eyebrow at Annie and she tries to contain her victorious smile.

“What is this world coming to?” she shakes her head in sympathy.

The man grunts in agreement as he wraps their gyro.

“I bet,” Jeff ramps up to the important question, “you get to do a lot of interesting sheep watching, huh?”

“Oh, yeah,” the man shakes his head, “You wouldn’t believe the kinds of crazy people that come to conventions. No offence.”

Jeff shrugs. “We’re mostly here for our friends. They’re big fans of Inspector Spacetime.” He gauges the man’s reaction expectantly, looking for any familiarity with the name.

“That’s the crazy show that goes on forever, right? With the space and time travel?”

“The very same,” Annie confirms, handing over a ten-dollar bill.

“My son’s a fan.”

Jeff nods. “They’re an exuberant bunch, the fans.”

“Tell me about it,” the man leans forward to deposit Annie’s change in her hands and whisper. “I saw a black man dressed as the sidekick crying earlier.” Jeff and Annie exchange knowing looks. “Plus, there was this raving-mad Asian guy that kept running past the cart dressed as the machine enemy things.”

 _Bingo_ , Jeff thinks, trying to ward off a smirk. “A Blorgon?”

“Yeah,” the man nods at Jeff. “He was yelling all kinds of crazy things, drawing attention. I think I remember him saying something about scaling the bear statue they have outside.”

Jeff deflates. “I heard about that. Apparently he actually tried.”

“No shit?” the man snorts. “Those are some big balls for such a small man.”

Annie’s face scrunches, disturbed. “Did you see him at all after that?”

The man thinks about it. “No, things quieted down a lot after lunch. They crowd the afternoon with the more interesting workshops and less people hang out here.”

“Makes sense,” Jeff pats the counter. “Well, we’ve got to be going. Thanks.”

“No problem,” the man waves. “Stop by tomorrow, if you’re here. You two make a lovely couple.”

Jeff sneaks a glance at Annie, who’s in the middle of sneaking a glance at him. They both look away quickly, flustered.

“Well that was a bust,” Annie pouts once they’re out of earshot.

“Don’t get all defeated on me now, Edison. We’re just warming up.”

She smiles up at him. “I guess we should go scope out the tables since we’re here.”

“That’s the spirit!” Jeff says.

There’s a smattering of people still hanging out at the picnic tables. Annie shows each of them a photo of Chang, but no one recognizes him. Plus, they give Jeff and Annie strange looks as they search the premises. Though he stands aside and smirks himself as Annie goes so far as to look under every table.

When it’s clear there’s nothing there, they sit down to split the gyro.

Annie’s sipping their Diet Coke and Jeff’s picking at the last bits of the chicken when her phone chimes.

“Abed says he just talked to the security guard who monitors the videos. He had to fill out an official report, and we’ll be able to review the tapes tomorrow morning.”

“That should be helpful,” Jeff offers optimistically.

“I hope so,” Annie laments. She takes the clips and ties out of her hair and shakes it out, running her fingers through it. “We really shouldn’t have let him wander off alone.”

“Abed?” Jeff asks, distracted.

Annie raises her eyebrows at him, “ _Chang_.”

“Oh,” he shakes his head to dispel the pungent scent of Annie’s shampoo. “It’s not like we’re actually responsible for him. It’s not our fault we couldn’t keep the lid on a ticking time bomb.”

She hums noncommittally, but Jeff can tell she doesn’t agree. “We should swing by the palm trees, just in case, before we meet Abed out front.”

Jeff nods his assent and throws out their trash as Annie sends Britta a text to come get them.

The crowd of people has thinned a lot, so they take the opportunity to ask everyone they pass whether they’ve seen Chang. Some people actually stop to think, while others flip them off or don’t even stop walking.

The endeavor is fruitless, to say the least.

When they finally get to the palm trees, Annie ducks down to search the pots while Jeff takes the higher points.

He’s about to give up when Annie starts jumping up and down. “Holy crap, holy crap!”

“What?”

“There’s a note in here!”

Annie digs a piece of paper out of the second pot and circles around the trees to meet Jeff.

“Holy crap,” he echoes her reaction and takes the paper from her. “He’s crazier than I ever imagined.”

Huffing, she snatches the paper back from Jeff and reads:

_Friends,_

_I had to go. I didn’t have a choice. They insisted. Enjoy your lives without me._

_-The artist formerly known as Kevin_

_P.S. Someone scale the giant bear for me_

“That’s all it says?” Annie turns the paper over. “Who are ‘they’?”

“Why did he leave a note where we were unlikely to find it? Why wasn’t he more specific? Why did he sign it ‘the artist formerly known as Kevin’? These questions all have the same answer: Chang is crazy.”

“ _I didn’t have a choice_ ,” Annie repeats. “What if he was kidnapped?”

“What predator wants an unstable Asian man with multiple personalities? There are, like, a million easier and more efficient kidnapping targets.” She eyes him suspiciously. “I’m just making a point; I’ve never thought about kidnapping someone. Jesus.”

“We still have to look for him,” Annie points out. “He’s our friend. Kind of.”

Jeff grimaces, but he knows she’s right. “There’s nothing we can do right now. Let’s go back to the hotel. We can make a game plan, and then we’ll meet the officer to look over the surveillance videos first thing tomorrow morning.”

Annie agrees and they go find Abed out front.

Later that night, when everyone is sleeping, Jeff feels Annie nudge his calf with her big toe. “Jeff?” she whispers. “Are you awake?”

“Do you have bad circulation or something? You’re fucking cold.”

Annie huffs and presses the bottom of her foot firmly against his leg.

Jeff jumps at the chill. After her giggles die down, he can practically feel that something’s worrying her, making her quiet and serious. “You okay?” he asks, rolling over.

“I can’t stop thinking about what might have happened.”

“To Chang?” he clarifies.

“Duh,” she says. “He has a mother and father somewhere in the world. And a brother. People who were counting on us to look out for him.”

Jeff sighs and suppresses the urge to remind her that it’s _Chang_ she’s talking about. Even if his family is alive and well, there’s no evidence that suggests they care enough to keep tabs on him.

He tries for comforting instead. “As crazy and unable to look out for himself as Chang is, he’s survived this long. At Greendale no less. He’ll probably be fine.” He hears and feels Annie sigh. “And, who knows, maybe a gang of rogue middle-schoolers will be there to aid him in a pinch.”

“Jeff,” Annie whines, “this is serious.”

“Yes, it is. That’s why we should rest our brains and approach this from a new angle in the morning.”

Annie sighs. “I can’t fall asleep. I’m too anxious.”

Jeff considers this. “Should I sing to you?”

“Well, if you’re really offering…” she pokes at his stomach, calling his bluff.

He clears his throat after a moment and leans in to sing quietly in her ear. “ _Well I guess it would be nice_ —”

“Jeff.”

“— _if I could touch your body. I know not everybody has got a body like you_.”

Annie’s gasping for air, trying to keep her laughter hushed. “You have to stop,” she insists.

“Gotcha to relax though, didn’t I?”

She lets out a slow exhale and gets as close to him as she can without actually snuggling against his chest. “It wasn’t _un_ helpful.”

Jeff tentatively brushes his fingers along the elastic band of her pajama pants and settles his palm over her hip. “Sweet dreams,” he whispers, squeezing.

“You too,” she whispers back.

Moments later, her breath evens out and she’s asleep.

 _I love you, I love you, I love you_ , he thinks. Jeff clenches his eyes shut and lets the mantra lull him to dreamland.

He wakes up to an empty bed.

Immediately, he goes into panic mode. _Someone’s picking off the group. They started with Chang and now they have Annie. Fuck, shit, what do I do?_

“Oh, good, you’re awake,” Annie bounces onto the bed, hair smoothed back into a ponytail and minty toothpaste on her breath. “Troy and Abed took a bus to the center to catch the arrival of some actor. I’m letting Britta sleep in ‘cause she was so crabby yesterday. But we should get going.”

Jeff takes a moment to restart his heart. “This is too much pep for 9 AM. Give a guy some time to wake up."

"Early bird catches the…kidnapper," Annie says.

"Rolls right of the tongue," he teases, smoothing down his hair before sitting up. Annie's wearing jeans and a light blue sweater that really complements her eyes, so he takes a moment to admire her as she folds her costume from yesterday and sticks it in her suitcase.

"Today, Winger," she snaps playfully when she catches him looking.

"Okay, okay," he grumbles, flipping back the comforter. "I'll be ready to go in fifteen."

After Annie leaves a note for Britta and some change for bus fare, they leave.

Since it's still early, activity around the convention center is scattered. The sleuths head straight for the security office, a nondescript door with a small, rectangular plaque.

A balding man of considerable girth, with a name tag that reads Officer Stevenson, answers their knock. "Can I do something for you two?"

"Our friend, Abed Nadir, filled out a report yesterday evening. We're looking this man," Annie shows Officer Stevenson a picture of Chang on her phone. "He's been missing since about 1 PM yesterday."

Stevenson grunts. "He's not considered a missing person till 48 hours. Only police can review our security tapes."

Jeff is about to swoop in for some lawyering, but Annie takes the lead. "Abed met with an Officer Lehane. Could we at least speak to him about the matter?"

Stevenson rolls his eyes. "Whatever you say, girlie. Wait here." He slams the door in their face.

"What a prick," Jeff growls.

Annie shushes him. "He's a prick with something we need," she whispers. "Play nice."

The door opens again, this time to reveal a tall, gangly man with an exuberant smile. "You guys are Abed's friends?" he asks.

Annie nods. "I'm Annie, and this is Jeff. Are you Officer Lehane?"

"Sure am. Come on, I'll lead you to the surveillance room."

The space inside the door is deceptively large. Officer Stevenson gives the trio a dirty look as Officer Lehane prints visitor badges for Jeff and Annie before leading them down a narrow corridor.

The surveillance room is dark and there are two rolling desk chairs posed in front of a wall of video monitors. "Your friend Abed is the man. He knows, like, _everything_ about falafel."

"That is one of his specialties," Jeff agrees, shooting Annie a look. She shrugs. "Did you find any footage with our missing friend?"

"It's interesting," Officer Lehane muses. "Your friend has a distinct build and face, so he's easier to pick out of a crow than most. But ya gotta understand, a lot of people come to these things."

"So you didn't find any footage?" Annie clarifies.

"Your friend got into several scuffles over the course of the day, and most things of that nature are flagged by the computer anyway. So I've got that stuff, but I wasn't able to find him in any other shots."

"Can we view the flagged footage?" Jeff asks and Annie pulls out a flip-top notebook.

Officer Lehane cues up three separate clips. The first takes place in one of the display rooms. Chang grabs onto what appears to be a mace, and a lady dressed in a prim dress suit rushes over to scold him. Chang fights back and they yell for several minutes before the lady drags him off.

Though the timestamp reads 10:24—before Chang went missing—Annie still checks, "Who's that?"

"That's Miranda Godwin. She's from the center's data collection center. When there's a big event like this one, she's usually on the floor soliciting surveys."

Annie jots the information down. "Where would we be able to find Ms. Godwin?"

"You could ask the information desk to page her or try the data collection office on the third floor."

She takes more notes as Lehane plays the second fight. Jeff instantly recognizes it as the bear dispute.

"We were present for that. What’s the last one?"

Officer Lehane amiably moves onto the third video, and the timestamp puts the scene just after the group lunch.

Annie grips Jeff's upper arm so hard, he can distinctly feel the depression of each nail.

The camera is filming one of the observation decks that looks out over the city. Chang appears to be monologuing at one of the pairs of binoculars. After several minutes, he starts tugging aggressively at the mounted device, bracing himself against the concrete wall to which the binoculars are attached.

Britta suddenly walks onto the scene. She's carrying a long, thin stick that's poised between her pointer and middle finger like a cigarette, but Jeff doesn't think there's tobacco in there. When she sees that she's not alone, Britta drops the presumed joint into her bag and starts scolding Chang.

He ignores her, continuing to tug at the binoculars. Finally, Britta gets behind him and circles her arms around Chang's waist.

She pulls him away from the ledge and disappears from the camera's view.

"Ho-ly," Jeff whistles.

"Crap," Annie finishes.

"Looks like we've got ourselves a lead suspect."

Annie lets her head fall into her hands. "And it's Britta."

###

"She's not answering her cell phone," Annie says, jabbing the 'end' button and pacing along the stretch of lobby outside the security office.

“So she’s either still asleep or her phone exploded again.”

Annie scoffs, “Yes, _those_ are the only two possibilities.”

Jeff shrugs.

“We should check in with Troy and Abed and see if they’ve heard from her.”

Troy answers his phone on the second ring. He hasn’t seen Britta but agrees to call Annie back the instant he sees or hears from her.

“Great, a dead end,” she says, collapsing back against the wall. “What do we do now?”

“Britta’s gotta turn up eventually,” Jeff reasons. “The way I see it, we could be thorough and check out one Ms. Godwin, _or_ we could walk to the IHOP just down the road and get breakfast.”

Annie considers the options, her brow furrowed. She feels the need to keep up with the case; it seems wrong to focus on other things when Chang is missing.

But Jeff is pouting out his lower lip, and Annie is distracted by suppressing her irrational _need_ to know what his reaction would be if she were to tug on the flesh with her teeth.

It should be a crime to be such an attractive person.

“Fine,” Anne throws her hands up in surrender. “We’ll go get breakfast.”

Jeff pumps his fist and then offers his arm to Annie.

She can’t help the wide smile the spreads across her face. It’s an involuntary reaction to looking directly at Jeff Winger.

It’s a ten minute walk to the restaurant, and the lobby is crowded with a backlog of guests when they get there. Everywhere Annie looks, the building is decorated with boughs of holly, twinkly lights, and cardboard reindeer stuck to the windows.

“Santa worshippers,” she mutters. Jeff smiles softly down at her.

An overwhelmed host greets them.

“Table for two,” he requests.

“It’ll be about a five-minute wait.”

They lean up against a wall, huddled close together and out of the way. Jeff pulls out his phone, and Annie stares off into space, trying to focus on anything but the warm, six-foot-four wall of solid man that’s basically pressing her up against the chilly glass.

Once they’re seated, a harried woman in a dirty, white button-down top and a Santa hat comes by for their drink orders. Jeff gets a black coffee and Annie orders a French vanilla cappuccino.

“Lookie here,” Jeff picks up the table tent and turns it in his hands. “At least you and your Jewish brethren get IHOP latkes.” He shows her the panel decorated with stars of David advertising a Hanukkah special.

“Our gift from the universe,” Annie says wryly. She takes the sticky, laminated tent from Jeff. “That’s so weird.”

Their server swoops past, depositing their drinks and running off in the direction she came with a rushed, “Be back in a sec.”

Annie scoops the whipped cream off the top of her cappuccino with a spoon and Jeff adds half a sugar packet to his mug.

“What’s weird?” he asks.

“Hanukkah starts in a couple days. It feels like it came out of nowhere.”

“Yeah, well, welcome to adulthood. You’re always too busy to stop and smell the holiday spirit.”

“I guess,” Annie hedges. “But it feels like more than that. Something’s different this year.”

Jeff lazily flips through the menu. “What do you mean?”

She thinks about it for a moment, looking down at her own menu. “The holiday season was always about spending time with my family, giving back, and taking the time to appreciate everything I had. Even after I…seceded from my blood relatives,” Jeff snorts at her word choice, “I still felt like the holidays were about self-reflection and being a better person. I’ve never felt this detached before—like Christmas and Hanukkah are just days on the calendar.”

“My mom worked a lot of shitty jobs to make ends meet after my dad left. For me, the holidays were all about being off school and spending entire days in a lonely house while my mom dealt with the high demands of holiday retail.”

“That’s kind of bleak,” she purses her lips, studying Jeff’s face intently.

“It could be. I watched _a lot_ of TV to fill the time. But Christmas day was always magical. My mom kind of spoiled me, and it was the one day of the year I felt truly, I don’t know, cared for.”

Annie opens her mouth to reply, but their waitress appears beside the table. “Know whatcha want?”

Jeff orders himself blueberry crepes and Annie gets a stack of buttermilk pancakes.

Once their server darts off again, Jeff adds, “I got wasted my first Christmas alone. I’ve pretty much made that my holiday tradition ever since.”

“We should do something special for the holidays this year. Together. Make a new, less depressing tradition.”

Jeff looks up from his mug of coffee to study Annie tenderly. “I’d like that.”

She smiles widely and they hold the gaze until Annie has to look away, her heart thumping erratically.

They lapse into a comfortable silence. Jeff pulls out his phone again. After finishing her drink, Annie excuses herself to the bathroom.

When she gets back, the food has been delivered to the table.

“We should talk about the case,” Annie suggests as she cuts her breakfast into bite-sized pieces and then drowns it in maple syrup.

“What about it?”

“Well, we have the opportunity nailed down, but I’m having trouble with Britta’s motive. Or her means for that matter. Where is she keeping him? If it’s not at the convention center, how did she transport him there?”

Jeff chews thoughtfully. “She was pretty miffed about having to share a bed with him. Getting him out of the way would ensure a restful night’s sleep.”

Annie rolls her eyes at his mockingly sinister tone. “Sure. Our friend Britta—who cares for blind and diabetic cats—dumped a human being at an undisclosed location to sleep better for two nights.”

“It’s not just any human being,” Jeff points out. “It’s Chang.”

She winces. “It’s thin…but it is all we have to go on for now.” She forks some pancake into her mouth as she thinks about it. “Do you think we should go easy on her for the questioning or play hardball?”

Jeff waggles his eyebrows excitedly. “Hardball is fun. Plus, it’s Britta. The more we scare her at first, the more likely she’ll be to blurt out useful information.”

Annie nods in reluctant agreement. “So we’ll lay it on thick at first. But we should ease back as soon as she cracks.”

They talk strategy until they finish their meal. On the walk back to the center, Jeff offers her a stick of gum. As she’s folding the foil wrapper into a small square, Annie’s phone buzzes loudly in her pocket.

“Do you have eyes on the target?” she answers Troy’s call.

“Uh, no, Annie, my eyes are in my head where I need them for seeing things.”

Annie shakes her head in disbelief. “That’s not what…never mind. Have you seen Britta?”

“Oh, yeah. She’s with us. We’re looking at an old west costume gallery on the second floor.”

“Don’t let her out of your sight. We’re on our way.” Annie ends the call and turns to Jeff. “Troy and Abed have Britta detained.”

“We’d better hustle then.”

They jog back to the center, flash their tickets at the gate, and then snake through the people standing still on the escalator to the second-floor lobby.

After walking in on a film-editing techniques panel and a game-testing room, Jeff and Annie find the costume display. Troy, Abed, and Britta are toward the back of the room looking at a collection of belts with gun holsters.

Annie meanders up. “We’ll take it from here, boys,” she says, snapping her gum ominously and grabbing onto Britta’s upper arm. “You’re coming with us.”

“What the hell is going on?” Britta demands as Jeff grabs hold of her other arm.

“We just need to ask you a few questions regarding Ben Chang’s mysterious disappearance,” Jeff says gruffly.

“What? Why?”

“We don’t want to resort to violence, but we will if you don’t cooperate,” Annie threatens.

“I have rights, you know,” Britta shouts as they drag her out of the room and out onto one of the observation decks. “You can’t detain me without my consent. I will file a civil rights lawsuit against all of you!”

“And you’ll pay a lawyer with what money?” Jeff asks.

“Yesterday at approximately 4:05 P.M. you went on record that the last time you saw Mr. Chang was around noon on the very same day. Want to tell us why you lied?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Britta turns up her nose and brushes imaginary dirt off her shirt.

“Is that right?” Jeff cocks his head. “Notice anything special about our location?”

“It’s just an observation deck,” Britta goes for nonchalance, but her voice wavers. “I don’t get the significance.”

“And if we were to somehow review the security footage taken of every deck around the building,” Annie points at the camera behind her, “we wouldn’t see you, say, encountering a certain unwanted, psychopathic sleeping partner during a smoke break, would we?”

“Uh.” Britta falters.

“How did you sleep last night, Britta?” Jeff asks menacingly.

“Okay!” she says. “I saw Chang after lunch yesterday. He was yelling at some binoculars about betraying him, so I took him to the security office and left him with Jones. But I didn’t kidnap him.” Britta hangs her head in shame, but Annie can tell she’s being honest.

“Why lie about it?”

Britta glances up at the camera and then lowers her voice. “I brought some weed with me,” she admits. “I didn’t want to tell you guys about it in case I got caught or something. I didn’t want to get you guys in trouble.”

Annie sighs. “Aww, Britta!”

Jeff elbows her in the side. “That’s not cute, that’s stupid. You’re stupid,” he accuses Britta.

“Well excuse me for trying to make this convention more fun for myself, _Thoraxis_.”

“Point taken,” Jeff concedes.

“Do you know what Jones did with Chang?” Annie directs the conversation back to the case.

“He said he was going to detain him for a half hour and then let him go again. Like con time-out or something.”

“Have you spoken to Jones since?”

“We texted a little bit, but nothing serious. He works later today doing security for the closing night dance celebration thingy.”

Jeff and Annie share a look and then Annie says, “When does his shift start?”

“Six, I think.”

She jots this down in her notebook, then flips it closed and slips it into her pocket. “Okay, that’s all for now. You’re free to go.”

Britta pushes past them to go back inside, but pauses and turns back when her hand is poised on the handle. “I can’t believe you guys are _still_ playing detective just to spend time with each other. Sleep together already, I mean seriously.” And then she’s gone.

Annie feels the blood rush to her face. When she glances at Jeff out of the corner of her eye, he’s flushed and checking her reaction, too.

He clears his throat and stares straight ahead. “So, that was pretty successful, huh?”

“Yup. It didn’t take long at all, and we have a new lead suspect.”

“Jones _was_ pretty creepy.”

“And he was very upset with Chang. Not like it was without reason, but still, he seemed to take everything personally.”

“Yeah. Plus, there was all that leering. But we can’t question him till he gets here later.”

“I suppose we should hang out with the group until six, enjoy our last day here.”

Jeff nods and then holds the door back into the center open for Annie.

Over the course of the day, they attend several panels. Annie buys a souvenir t-shirt for Shirley and tries Chang’s cell phone several times, but it always goes straight to voicemail. Jeff spends some time at the bar and some hanging around with Troy and Abed.

Around 3:30, the group piles into the van and goes back to the hotel to change for the closing party.

After much probing from Jeff, Troy and Abed change from their Inspector Spacetime costumes into jeans and festive sweaters. Britta dons a black dress and a cheery green scarf. Jeff puts on slacks and a dark blue cardigan over a white t-shirt.

Annie is the last to finish getting ready. She emerges in a fuzzy-looking lavender sweater dress and a bright pink trench coat.

Jeff smiles when he sees her. “You look cute.”

“Thanks.” Feeling the flattery create a buzz in her head, Annie does an awkward half-curtsy.

Jeff’s smile just grows.

By the time they travel back to the con, the sun has set and the glass front of the building is glowing in the darkness. The convention center’s staff has set out signs directing partygoers to one of the ballrooms.

The room is spacious and has a sleekly-polished wooden floor. The ceiling is low and several crystal chandeliers hang at regular intervals. Tables with snacks and punch line the east wall, and a DJ is set up along the furthest wall from the entrance. A set of propped open doors on the west wall catch Annie’s attention, but she can’t see what’s beyond the threshold. Wreaths and red velvet bows decorate the walls and the space is lit with green and red strings of lights, which glint in the chandeliers and on the floor to create a mystical, surreal atmosphere.

It’s still early, but a smattering of con-goers is swaying on the dance floor. Much more of the current party population is hanging back and watching.

The walls are pounding with a dance remix version of Jingle Bells.

“If they play this shit all night, I’m going to need to be one hundred percent more stoned,” Britta grumbles in Annie’s ear.

She pats Britta’s shoulder and consults her watch—5:47.

Abed pushes past them further into the room. “They probably have other activities set up in there,” he points to the open doors. “Constable?”

“Yes, this room is rife with Blorgon activity,” Troy easily slips into character. “We must assess the threat level and save the galaxy!”

“Right you are! We mustn’t alert them to our presence. There are too many. This is an ambush situation.”

Both of them fling their bodies against the wall and start edging around the room, humming some action music.

“I’m going to see if any of the punch is spiked,” Jeff sighs. Annie taps her watch at him in reminder, and Jeff salutes her before walking off.

Annie and Britta are herded further into the room as other attendees enter.

“Dumb but seasonal theme? Check. Tacky playlist? Check. Socially inept nerds with a slew of psychological issues? Check. This is basically a Greendale dance,” Britta observes.

Annie offers her hand. “Wanna show ‘em how Greendale girls get it done?”

Britta shrugs. “What the hey?”

They scope out a place on the dance floor and start twirling around to the rhythm of the music.

After a few songs, a scruffy man in a tuxedo t-shirt and thick glasses approaches them and taps Britta on the shoulder. “Dance with me?” he yells over the thrum of the music.

She looks back at Annie in question.

Annie quirks her eyebrow, silently asking her opinion on the guy.

After a second of consideration and a glance at her suitor, Britta nods.

“Have fun,” Annie shouts over the music as Britta takes tuxedo shirt’s hand and leads him elsewhere.

Annie bounces her knees in place for a song or two, observing the crowd and keeping an eye out for Jones.

As she’s straining her neck to check out the security guards standing in front of the DJ’s soundboard, a large, round man with a patchy beard that drips down his neck steps into her line of sight.

“You’re pretty.” His voice is loud and rumbling.

“Um, thank you,” Annie nods graciously but doesn’t make eye contact.

“Dance with me.” It isn’t a question.

“Well,” Annie starts.

But she doesn’t have to come up with an excuse. Suddenly, impossibly large and warm hands are cupping her shoulders and she recognizes the comforting height of Jeff’s body just barely pressed against her back. “There you are, honey.” She doesn’t hear the words so much as feels the vibrations reverberate from Jeff’s chest.

She cranes her neck to look up at Jeff’s face. He’s staring pointedly at Annie’s admirer.

The man gets the message and holds his hands up in surrender as he backs away.

Annie turns to smile gratefully at Jeff. “Thanks.”

He nods. “We might as well dance. You know, so as to not arouse suspicion.”

She smirks knowingly at him but steps a little closer and lets her body loosen, moving to the music.

“Have you seen him yet?” Annie bounces onto her tip-toes to get closer to Jeff’s ear.

“Not yet. We should probably do a full sweep of the premises soon.”

They move their bodies in tandem, not quite touching but moving as one wave of limbs, and Annie checks her watch—6:07.

“One more song?”

Jeff nods, letting a sly smile unfurl.

The pounding beat of a Lady Gaga song dissolves into the soft, tinkling chords of “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas.”

Annie widens her eyes and looks up at Jeff in question. His expression is soft with an undertow of nervous want. She feels her breath catch in her throat as his large, muscular arm circles around her waist and pulls her flush against him.

She’s glad the music is so loud because she whimpers involuntarily and dazedly rests a palm on his strong shoulder.

Their free hands clasp together, and they sway back and forth, never breaking eye contact.

Jeff’s looking at her like she might be the answer to every question he’s ever had, like she’s the only thing in his field of vision.

And she wants so badly to move the hand on his shoulder to cup the back of his neck, to pull him down to her, to kiss him. It would barely take any effort at all.

But then the song ends and the moment is crushed in the pulsing beat of another pop dance track.

Jeff clears his throat. “So we should, uh…” he trails off, losing the end of his sentence.

“Find Jones,” Annie suggests breathlessly.

“Right. Chang and justice and shit.”

They break apart.

“We should check with the officers stationed at the door to see if Officer Jones has showed up for his shift yet.”

Jeff nods and follows Annie outside the ballroom.

“Excuse me,” they consult the well-muscled, bald man standing between the two double door entrances.

“How can I help you two?”

“We have a question for Officer Jones,” Jeff explains. “We were told he was working security detail on the party here.”

The bald man nods. “Yeah, he’s around here somewhere. I don’t know his exact assignment, though.”

“That’s okay,” Annie smiles. “We’ll find him. Thanks for your help.”

The man inclines his head in acknowledgement as Jeff and Annie walk back inside.

“Well, he’s not in here,” Jeff reasons. “Time to follow Troy and Abed down the nerd rabbit hole?” He points to the second party room.

The additional room is lit by blacklight and carpeted like an arcade so that glowing spaceships and shooting stars pop against a navy blue background. A few shooter games, a pinball machine, and Pac-Man are grouped in the back half of the room. A projector screen is displayed prominently in the front, running a highlight reel of the con’s events. The presentation has sound, but Annie’s ears mostly pick up the blaring dance music.

Troy and Abed are nowhere to be found, but there is a man with a ridiculous mustache and dark hair looking bored across the room.

Annie pokes Jeff’s hip excitedly and nods in Jones’ direction.

“Hey!” Jeff shouts. “We need to talk to you!”

It takes a moment for Jones’ eyes to focus, but just as soon as the flash of recognition crosses his face, the man bolts for a glass door Annie hadn’t noticed.

“I did _not_ wear the shoes for a chase,” she whines, glancing down at her slightly-too-large ballet flats before tearing off after Jones.

She doesn't need to look back to know that Jeff is right behind her.

The door leads outside to the top of a wide, sweeping staircase. With his head start, Jones is about two-thirds of the way down. Annie hurls herself forward, her heels flopping out of her shoes as she hops down the slick steps, agilely winding around the groups of costumed and seasonably-dressed smokers.

Once she and Jeff get to the bottom, there's a moment of hesitation.

"He went straight ahead, around the corner of the building!" Jeff points, breathless.

Annie's heart pounds with adrenaline and she charges ahead, veering sharply right as soon as she reaches the end of the glass wall and scrambling for a moment.

A snow-covered lawn with a sidewalk cutting it in half stretches in front of them. Annie's eyes just catch the powder-blue security guard uniform shirt disappearing into a door on the side of the building.

"There!" Annie shouts, getting Jeff's attention as she races onward.

The door deposits them into a stairwell. "Shit," Jeff grumbles, panting.

“Shh,” Annie hisses, her heart thumping in her ears.

The echo of Jeff's voice dies down just in time for them to hear the metallic _click_ of the door on the floor above them closing. They take off, sprinting up the steps.

Jeff and Annie are led into a hallway with conference rooms lining either side. Jones is nowhere in sight.

"You try the doors," Jeff says as he jogs ahead of her, "and I'll check the end of the hall."

Annie's only a quarter of the way down the hallway—toggling each locked knob and wiping her shoes on the gritty, industrial carpet—when Jeff calls her to him.

She nearly trips over her shoes in her rush, surging forward ungraciously. The hallway dumps into a circular lobby that branches off into several, other halls, like the spokes of a wheel. Jeff points out a shadowy figure thumping down the hall not quite across from the one they just came from.

Without another word, they both race after their suspect, who disappears into a different stairwell.

They don't have to guess which way Jones is going this time because they're gaining on him. Leaning over the railing, Annie watches his absurdly spiky head glance up at her nervously before exiting on the first floor.

"We're so close," Annie urges as they fly down the stairs and scramble to wrench the door open.

She is disoriented when she steps out into the lobby, and it takes her second to realize where they are in relation to the front entrance.

“C’mon,” Jeff tugs on Annie’s forearm as he runs past her.

They're on the perp's heels now, tailing him past the group of fake palm trees and shouting for people to get out of the way as they chase him out the front.

As soon as he reaches the curb, Jones rounds on them, his Taser at the ready.

“Whoa, whoa,” Jeff instantly slows and holds out his arm to stop Annie, positioning himself slightly in front of her. Annie rolls her eyes, smiling to herself at Jeff’s protectiveness. “No need for that. We just want to talk.”

Jones hesitates. “About what?”

“Our friend, Chang.”

Jones shrugs, confused.

“The lunatic who tried to climb the bear,” Jeff clarifies.

"Oh?" Jones lowers his Taser, still looking lost. "What about him?"

"We want to know what you did with him," Annie stabs an accusatory finger in Jones's direction.

"When?"

"Yesterday. Britta said she dropped him off with you around 1:00 in the afternoon. He's been missing since then."

Jones drops his defensive posture completely. "I didn't hear nothin' about a missing person. But I didn't do it, if that's what y'all are implying."

"You were the last person to see him," Jeff presses.

"Nuh-uh. Per policy, I made him watch a twenty minute video about convention center safety. Then I released him. Haven’t heard about him causin' any trouble since."

"Excuse us," Jeff nods at the officer and then turns to Annie. "Do you think he's telling the truth?"

"Either that or he's a well-trained liar. He's not showing any of the classic tells."

Jeff nods. "I noticed that, too."

They turn back to Jones.

"I just have one more question," Annie says. "Why run?"

Jones scrunches up his face. "Look, this job ain't as cushy as it seems. We get a lot of crazies attacking us and shit. He's a big guy." He looks Jeff up and down. "He sounded angry. So I ran."

Jeff snorts and Annie deflates. "We're back at square one," she sighs.

"At least tomorrow we can make an official police report."

Annie nods. "We should go find the others."

They're almost to the door when a car with a rumbling muffler pulls up to the curb, drawing everyone's attention.

The engine cuts, and a vaguely familiar man wearing a kipa steps out of the driver's seat. He waves, friendly, at Jeff and Annie.

Intrigued, Annie takes a few steps toward the car.

And then Chang gets out of the passenger seat.

"What the _fuck_?" Jeff exclaims.

"Hey guys," Chang says. "How was the rest of the con? Did you climb the bear like I asked?"

"I--bu--wha—How?" Annie stutters.

"Have you guys met my brother?" Chang gestures toward the man who came out of the driver's seat. "He's a rabbi."

Annie politely greets Rabbi Chang before rounding on lunatic Chang. "Where the hell have you been?"

"Ben," the rabbi scolds, "I thought you told them you were leaving."

"I did. I left them a note."

"Which had very little information," Annie snaps. "You didn't even sign your real name!"

"What's in a name, really?" Chang strokes his chin.

"We thought you'd been kidnapped," Jeff shouts, incredulous.

"I think you mean _Chang_ napped."

Jeff's face flushes bright red and he reaches out for Chang, his hands ready to curl around the man's neck.

"Wow," Rabbi Chang shakes his head. "I'm so sorry about this. Our mother's in an assisted living facility here in town. When Ben told me he was going to be here for the weekend, I asked if he wanted to spend some time there with me. He told me you guys knew about the plans."

Jeff continues to sputter with rage.

Annie runs a soothing hand down his arm, taking a deep breath. "All that matters is that you're safe," she says to Chang, her voice measured.

"You guys were worried about me," Chang grins maniacally and claps his hands. "You care about me."

"Yeah, well, lesson learned," Jeff sighs. "I'm never doing that again."

"Again," Rabbi Chang clasps Jeff's shoulder and gives Annie an apologetic smile, "I am so sorry. I really must be going, though. Shalom."

"Happy early Hanukkah," Annie offers as he gets into his car and drives away.

When they turn back to go inside, Chang is eyeing the bear again.

"Don't even think about it," Annie's voice is firm.

"There's a party upstairs. You should go scare the shit out of Britta," Jeff suggests.

Chang brightens. "Don't mind if I do!" He takes off, sprinting inside the building.

"Well that was—" Annie starts.

"Pointless," Jeff finishes.

"I don't know," she shrugs. "I had fun."

Jeff smiles at her. "We should probably go make sure Britta doesn't kill Chang."

"Plus, you know, now we can relax and enjoy the dance."

He points at her in agreement and then offers his arm. "Milady."

Annie grins widely. "Milord."

They walk inside, arms linked.


	7. 2c of 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Word Count:** 6,485  
>  **Disclaimer:** These characters belong to Dan Harmon, etc., etc. I simply enjoy manipulating them.  
>  **Author's Note:** I really can't thank my beta, bethanyactually, enough. You are a magnificent human and I bow to your editing skills. The title of the story comes from a Four Star Mary song called "She Knows."  
>  This is probably the fluffiest chapter so far, so proceed with caution. ;)

After all the excitement of the con and Chang's faux-disappearance, Jeff's delighted to have a few weeks of absolutely nothing all to himself. From the time he gets back to his apartment on Sunday evening, he barely leaves the comfort of his place, only going out to stock up on groceries and work out at the gym.

He's still in total chill mode—wearing nothing but his most luxurious silk boxer briefs and loose sweatpants, hair actually disheveled instead of carefully sculpted to appear disheveled—when there's an unexpected knock at his door late Wednesday afternoon.

"Jeff?" Annie's voice calls from the other side of the door.

He looks down at his bare torso, panicking for a moment, before realizing that it's just _Annie_. (He never tires of the watching her subtly—or not-so-subtly—check him out.)

Depositing his laptop onto the coffee table, Jeff hefts himself off the couch and answers the door.

Annie's standing in the hall in her Barnes and Noble uniform with her backpack hanging off one shoulder. (Her eyes widen comically when she sees he's shirtless, openly ogling.)

"Can I hang out here for a while?" she asks, managing to tear her gaze away from his chest.

"Why?"

Annie gasps, affronted.

"No, I mean, of course you can. But why?"

"Oh," Annie exhales in a rush. "Troy and Abed made our apartment into one big blanket fort while I was at work. They said they needed to have twelve straight hours of adventures, shenanigans, and tomfoolery to reestablish their bond or whatever. Apparently, I'm a distraction."

"Of course, I should have guessed," Jeff jokes wryly and steps aside to let Annie in.

“I’m lucky Abed even let me come inside to get a bag. Do you mind if I change?”

He gives her a once-over, trying not to openly pout. He likes the tight khakis and green polo.

“You know where the bathroom is” he says. “Want anything to drink?”

“Do you have hot chocolate? Being surrounded by holiday shoppers put me in the mood.”

“One hot chocolate, coming up.” Annie shimmies excitedly and bounces off toward the bathroom. “You know,” he calls toward the cracked door while getting the box of cocoa mix out of a cabinet. “I think you’re the only retail worker who hasn’t been jaded by the holiday rush. How can you put up with whiny people all day and still be excited about Christmas?”

“I like the people who come into Barnes and Noble,” Annie answers defensively. She emerges from the bathroom as Jeff’s setting the kettle on to boil, and she’s adorable in fuzzy, penguin-patterned pajama pants and a long-sleeved Greendale Community College shirt. (Totally better than the uniform.) “In my experience, if you’re nice and polite to customers, they’ll be nice and polite back.”

“I don’t think that’s a universal experience. You must just be an exceptionally likable person,” he says, trying not to sound like a lovesick sap.

She shrugs, smiling, easily accepting his theory.

Jeff gets out mugs for both of them as the kettle starts to whistle. He switches off the burner, dumps powder into the bottom of each mug, adds water, and then retrieves soy milk from the fridge to top off each beverage.

Annie hums happily, deeply inhaling the rising steam, when he hands her a finished hot chocolate. “Thank you.” They settle on the couch. "Do you mind if I get some work done? I’ve been trying to finish a grant proposal every few days over break."

"No problem."

A pleasant silence takes hold of the room as Jeff returns to figuring out the texts he’ll need the campus bookstore to order for him next semester and Annie clicks away at her keyboard.

An hour or so passes before either of them speaks again.

“Ooh,” Annie lets out a surprised coo and Jeff looks up from his screen. “Have you finished this?” She’s holding up his copy of _Eleanor & Park_.

“Just a few days ago,” Jeff confirms. She cocks an eyebrow expectantly. “It was a good book.” When he notices a distinct, type-A excited gleam in her eyes, he adds, “but I’m not about to sit here and dissect it with you.”

Annie pouts out her lower lip, and Jeff looks away before his will crumbles under her powerful charm. “You don’t even want to speculate what the three words on the postcard are?”

“Isn’t the point that their relationship’s been scrutinized to death by the other people in their lives and they get to have something private at the end?”

She claps her hands at his assessment and he rolls his eyes. “That’s beautiful,” she pokes her stockinged toes at his thigh, goading him.

“Don’t you have writing to do?”

She smirks knowingly at him for several moments longer, making his skin tingle pleasantly, but he ignores her until she goes back to work.

After Jeff finishes the list and sends an email to the department head, he gets sucked into his twitter feed, mindlessly scrolling.

And then, suddenly, all the lights that were on in the apartment flick off along with the hum of Jeff’s heater.

There’s a moment of eerie silence, and Jeff meets Annie’s worried gaze, her face awash in the dim glow of her computer’s screen.

“Well crap.”

She powers down her laptop before standing and walking over to Jeff’s living room window to peek through the drawn blinds. “Uh, Jeff, you should see this.”

Worried that the building’s on fire or something, he scrambles out of his seat and comes up behind her.

Sleet is pelting the window, and snow is falling too, leaving the entire world trapped in a flurry. He can’t even see the building that’s a few feet across the way from his. “I’ll call the power company,” he says dubiously, hypnotized by the white, wet whirlwind.

He’s on hold for a while, so he and Annie track down some candles and pull the shades back so they can watch the snow fall. And once he gets to speak to an actual human, they have nothing to say that he hadn’t already pieced together: nearly the whole city is experiencing a blackout due to the storm.

Already, the temperature in the apartment is falling, and Jeff is forced to don a hoodie. He brings the comforter from his bed with him when he returns to Annie. “Up for some heat-conservation snuggles?”

She pats the space next to her on the couch, which she’s angled to give them a better view of the window.

He sits next to her, their arm and thighs touching, and grapples with the blanket until they’re comfortably swathed. Annie pulls the fabric all the way up to her chin and gently, tentatively rests her head against his upper arm.

“Now _this_ feels like the holidays,” she says contentedly.

Jeff doesn’t say anything, but he’s right there with her. The glowing candles, the foggy window, and the _splatting_ of snow against the glass create the perfect atmosphere: mystical and warm and happy. It’s almost like he’s a kid again.

“Did you ever believe in Santa?” he asks after a while, surprised by his own question.

“Jewish,” Annie reminds him, playfully testy.

“Yeah, I know that, but you went to elementary school in the United States. You were surrounded by Santa.”

She chuckles. “You make him sound like Big Brother.”

“Tell me I’m wrong.”

She’s silent for some time. And then, finally, says, “Yeah, I believed in Santa. I loved Santa as a kid. I also loved the firefly and period fairies, though.”

“The what now?”

Annie doesn’t take her head off his arm, but turns up to look at him. “Whenever Anthony and I would go over to our bubbe’s house to spend the night in the summer, she’d give us each a glass jar to catch fireflies in. Overnight, she’d set the bugs free and leave change in the jars for us.

“Sacrificial fireflies, of course. And what about this period fairy?”

Annie nudges her nose into his shoulder. “Do I really have to explain that one to you?”

“No,” he grins mischievously. Having her so close is mesmerizing, intoxicating. He can see all the different speckled shades of blue that make up the cerulean of her eyes, every laugh line etched in her face, and the scar on her left temple from when she crashed through the glass doors in high school.

He wants to kiss her so fucking much.

“So what do the period and firefly fairies have to do with Santa?” he asks, desperate for something else to focus on.

Annie smiles softly to herself. “When you’re a kid, it’s so easy to believe that magic exists. From Santa to the firefly fairy, you just accept that the world will give you things like presents or spare change because you earned it by merit of being alive.”

“And when you’re an adult?”

“You understand that things aren’t just handed to you. You have to work hard every day just to have food to eat and someplace to go home to. In the end, though, I think the work makes the simple things more gratifying. What about you?”

“I think we both know my stance on hard work.”

“No,” Annie shakes her head against his shoulder. “Did you ever believe in Santa?”

“Maybe when I was really young, but, no, I don’t remember ever buying the story. In fact, I was the asshole kid who ruined it for others.”

“That doesn’t surprise me.”

Jeff scoffs teasingly.

They watch the snowstorm in silence. Their body heat is all trapped under the comforter, and Jeff feels so relaxed that his eyelids start to feel weighted. Every time he blinks, he’s closer to drifting off.

“You know, I think I still believe in Santa.”

Jeff narrows his eyes blearily at her. “Jewish,” he points out.

“I don’t mean an actual guy who can travel around the world in one night with his magic reindeer. I mean the concept in general.” Jeff shakes his head, not understanding. “Say what you will about the holiday season, but it’s about love and appreciation, about showing the people you care about exactly what they mean to you. And I think Santa’s alive in that idea.”

The words _I love you_ bubble up to Jeff’s lips and he almost lets them loose, stopping himself at the last second.

Instead he says, “I’d like to think so, too.”

Pleased, Annie settles her head back onto Jeff’s arm.

Nervous he’s crossing a boundary but unable to hold back, he kisses the top of her head softly, pausing long enough to inhale the fragrance of Annie. She makes a contented noise in the back of her throat and snuggles a little closer.

Jeff’s asleep within seconds.

###

When Annie gets back to the apartment around 5 the next morning all the blankets are gone, and—as promised—all the furniture has been put back in place.

She sneaks past Troy sleeping on the couch and quietly eases her door shut. Shedding her pants—whose cuffs have been soaked through with melted snow—and her winter coat, Annie crawls into her bed.

Her nerves are on fire with the memory of Jeff, but as soon as the biting cold of her previously unoccupied sheets dissipates, she tumbles back into sleep.

Schedule thrown off, she doesn’t wake till 11:30. And even then she’s only startled into consciousness by the sound of arguing.

Everything that happened the night before trickles back to her slowly. The more she remembers, the more agitated she feels.

She wishes Dom were going to be around soon, but he’s away on his family trip till after New Year’s.

She really doesn’t want to break up with him while he’s in Iceland. It feels tacky.

As the arguing in the kitchen gives way to a full-on shouting match, Annie quickly finds a pair of pants and goes to intervene.

“Yeah, well, your face is pointy! And…and…I can’t think of another insult because you’re a generally agreeable person!”

“Good. We done here?”

“Yeah. We’re done.”

Abed nods at Annie. “I’m going over to Rachel’s. I’ll be back in time for group Christmas.”

“Okay,” she looks back and forth between Abed and Troy worriedly. “Have fun.”

The door slams closed. “I’ll be in my couch area,” Troy says glumly.

“What was that all about?” Annie asks, sitting at the kitchen table.

Troy sighs. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Oh, okay.”

Annie is getting up to go to her room when Troy blurts in a rush, “Gilbert called me last night to talk about my new responsibility to Hawthorne Wipes and Abed is mad at me for taking the call and interrupting our adventures and—” his voice breaks with tears.

“Oh, Troy,” Annie sits down next to him and pulls him into her chest, comfortingly rubbing a hand down his back.

“Sailing around the world was supposed to help me grow up and understand things, but everything is confusing and Abed hates me.”

She shakes her head vehemently. “Troy, Abed loves you. But you two are trying to avoid the fact that the last year happened. I think there are things you really need to talk out together before you can move past everything and be back to normal.”

Troy sits up. “But our friendship has always been easy. We’ve never had to work too hard, we just _go together_.”

“Working at a relationship doesn’t somehow lessen your bond with someone. All relationships take work.”

He doesn’t answer, just stares pensively at the ground. After a moment, his head snaps up. “Hey, you didn’t come home last night. Where’d you stay?”

Annie considers lying for a moment—partially out of habit and partially because she wants to keep the night for herself—but she quickly decides there’s no reason not to tell the truth. “I was at Jeff’s.”

Troy doesn’t even bat an eye. “Cool. I didn’t think it was possible, but you two seem like you’ve gotten closer since I left.”

“What does that mean?”

“Come on,” Troy levels her with a meaningful stare. “You haven’t noticed that Jeff’s always had a soft spot for you? Now it’s less of a spot and more like his entire body is mushy for Annie.”

“Ew, you’re making him sound like an overripe banana.”

“An overripe banana of _looooove_.”

Annie can’t help her laughter. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Obviously. Hey, thanks for the advice. I love you.”

“Aww, Troy. I love you, too.”

After giving him a tight hug, Annie stands. The group’s coming over later in the evening so they can all celebrate the holidays together before everyone’s preoccupied with work or scattered across the state visiting with family. She has a lot of cleaning and decorating to do before everyone arrives.

The day passes quietly. Troy leaves for an appointment with Gilbert, and Annie puts the finishing touches on her secular winter wonderland with an hour and a half to spare. (She got snowflake lights, stickers of snowmen for the windows, mittens as a substitute for stockings on which she wrote everyone's names in glitter glue, and a fake tree dusted with fake snow all for $30 at Target.)

By the time she’s showered and changed, both Abed and Troy are back.

Shirley’s there, too, already in the kitchen and wearing Troy’s homemade He is Risen apron.

“What can I do to help?” Annie asks.

Shirley ushers Annie to join her where she’s leaning over a cookbook. The Christmas dinner recipes she’s chosen are marked with post-it notes, and she assigns Annie the fresh rolls, sautéed green beans, gravy, and Britta’s special tofu loaf. Shirley attends to the chicken, pie, fruit salad, and mashed potatoes.

Apropos of nothing—while Annie’s cutting the ends off the green beans and she’s peeling potatoes—Shirley says, “So you spent the night with Jeff, huh?”

“Troy,” Annie scoffs, glaring daggers at where he's seated at the counter.

“Have you ever tried keeping things from Shirley?” Troy says defensively. “She can smell secrets on you. She’s ruthless, Annie. _Ruthless_.”

Annie rolls her eyes.

Shirley wipes her hands on a dishrag and gets two $20 bills out of her wallet. “Troy, Abed,” she starts in her cloying voice. “How about you run to the corner store and get some liquor for the evening.”

“Oh, actually, Troy and I are kind of fighting,” Abed informs her from the kitchen table where he's editing some project or another.

“Did I ask if you and Troy are fighting, or did I ask you to go to the damn corner store and get some liquor?” she asks threateningly.

“I’m getting from your irate tone that you want me to go anyway.”

Shirley nods.

“Okay, just checking.”

Once the boys are gone, Shirley goes back to peeling potatoes.

“Before you say anything,” Annie says after only a few seconds of pregnant silence, “you should know we didn’t do anything that would be considered a sin.”

Shirley sighs. “Oh, pumpkin, I’m not going to lecture you—though I wouldn’t wish for my worst enemy to be cheated on, so I’m glad to hear that. I know that I’ve been more than a little critical in the past of the…special relationship you and Jeff share.” Shirley turns to look Annie in the eye. “But you are both very dear friends to me. You’re both good, caring people. And I will support both of you no matter what happens in the future.”

Annie’s eyelids start to flutter and she can feel herself getting choked up. “Shirley—” She swallows over the lump in her throat, pausing before she starts again. “I know that you hate being pigeonholed in the mother role, but believe me when I say I mean this with the utmost respect: you are the closest thing I’ve ever had to a good mom. You’re my wisest friend, and I’m so lucky to have learned so much about womanhood from you. It means,” Annie hiccups back tears, “everything to me that you said that.”

Shirley nods in understanding and holds her arms out for Annie, who falls into the hug gratefully.

When they break apart, Annie’s gained some composure and is wiping the wetness from under her eyes.

They both go back to their preparations quietly until Shirley clears her throat. “Plus, you know, who else is going describe Jeff’s ass in detail to me?”

“Oh my God,” Annie laughs, incredulous. “You did not just say that.”

“It’s not my fault the good Lord gave me eyes,” Shirley says.

When Abed and Troy get back—frostily silent and carrying a few paper bags—Troy puts on a CD of Christmas carols. Though they continue to ignore each other, they both hang out at the counter and help where they can.

Around 6:00, Jeff and Britta show up together with a carton of eggnog and a bottle of rum.

"Who's ready for historically-inaccurate tidings of great paganism?"

"Watch it, girl," Shirley threatens. "There's still time to burn your tofu loaf."

"Aww," Britta softens instantly. "You got me a vegetarian entree."

Annie holds it up as evidence before slipping it in the oven. She washes her hands and gives Britta a hug, then Jeff.

"Sorry I slipped out earlier," she murmurs in his ear while he has her wrapped in his arms.

"’Sokay. I found your note."

She smiles, nodding.

"Dinner will be ready in 15," Shirley promises.

Troy sets the table, Britta adds some of the liquor to the eggnog, and Jeff pours himself a scotch. Once everything is ready, everyone grabs a dish and settles around the table.

Since it's Christmas Eve Eve, and it means a lot to Shirley, they invite her to say a prayer before the meal starts.

Once all the items have been passed around the table, it gets quiet, everyone focused more on eating than conversation. Annie and Shirley receive a lot of mumbled compliments about the food.

Annie has a couple glasses of the spiked nog as she eats and she's feeling floaty by the end of the meal, stuffed and happy and so grateful. "You guys," she breaks into Shirley and Britta's argument about the origin of the Christmas tree, "I love you all. A little less than six years ago I was lost and confused. I had no support system and absolutely no idea where I was going to sleep for the night let alone what I was going to do about school. But then I found Greendale and you guys and suddenly I wasn't alone. Thanks for being my family."

"Annie." Britta places a hand over her heart, nodding in agreement.

"We love you, too, An-nie," Shirley lilts.

Jeff grasps her hand under the table and gives it a squeeze before letting go again.

Troy tears up and looks at Abed, mouthing the words _I love you, man_. Abed flashes a tentative smile and they do their handshake.

"We should do an awkward family Christmas photo," Troy says.

Abed shakes his head. "None of us match."

"We don't have to match. We're all wearing festive sweaters."

"I think if we want to pay homage to the medium, though, matching would be the way to go."

"Fine," Troy grumbles. "Abed knows best."

 _Well that truce didn’t last long_ , Annie thinks to herself in the awkward silence that follows. Out loud, she says, "Who's up for a movie?"

"Excellent idea," Jeff nods, eager to help steer the evening back into happier territory.

"We could watch the Inspector Spacetime special," Troy suggests, extending the olive branch again.

"I already watched it this morning with Rachel."

Troy looks heartbroken, crossing his arms and sinking into his chair.

"I brought my copy of _Miracle on 34th Street_ ," Shirley offers hopefully.

"Ugh, vetoed," Britta says.

"Have you ever even seen the movie?"

"I don't need to. The title is a turnoff all by itself."

" _National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation_?" Abed suggests.

"Gross," Jeff is the one to shoot the suggestion down. "For some reason the father reminds me of Pierce; doesn't really get me in the holiday mood."

"What about _Love Actually_?" Annie asks.

"Boring," Troy shakes his head. " _The Family Man_?"

"I'm not ready to go back to Nicholas Cage yet," Abed sighs.

Troy narrows his eyes but then shakes his head in understanding. "That's okay, buddy."

" _The Nightmare Before Christmas_ ," Britta proposes eagerly.

"You would suggest that," Jeff rolls his eyes.

"What?" Britta's face screws up defensively. "It's a beloved holiday classic."

"For hipsters."

"Says the man who orders hair gel in bulk from Australia."

"You guys," Annie huffs exasperatedly. "This is ridiculous. What's the least offensive holiday movie you've ever seen?"

"I have an idea!" Abed claps his hands together. "We should pay homage to our second-season Christmas with a stop-motion animation classics marathon."

A moment passes and no one protests.

"I do like _The Little Drummer Boy_ ," Shirley concedes.

"It's been awhile since I've seen _Rudolph_ ," Britta says, "and I really like the Abominable Snowman."

Jeff shrugs, paying more attention to his phone than the conversation. “Fine by me."

"Burgermeister Meisterburger!" Troy cheers.

"Cool. Cool cool cool."

With the decision made, the group starts clearing off the kitchen table, moving it and the coffee table out of the way, pushing the couch closer to the TV, and arranging the armchairs around the couch.

Troy, Britta, and Shirley squeeze onto the couch and Abed and Jeff each take an armchair while Annie's in the kitchen rinsing off the dishes.

"Real nice, guys," she says when she joins them, the _Frosty the Snowman_ disc menu already cued up. "Where am I supposed to sit?"

Jeff pats his lap. "I've got room here."

"Get a room," Troy and Britta heckle in unison as Annie takes Jeff’s suggestion and gets comfortable.

"Oh, like you two have any room to talk," Jeff replies.

The room effectively silenced, Abed selects play.

They barely make it twenty minutes into the movie before the marathon becomes a sing-along.

Though Annie isn't successful in her attempts to goad Jeff into singing, she does catch him humming along to a few songs.

###

Snow is falling lightly outside, the TV is quietly playing in the background (Harry Potter movies all day), and Jeff is sprawled out over the couch, reveling in the perfect Christmas Eve afternoon.

His phone pings where it's resting on his chest, alerting him to a snapchat from Annie.

She's at work and has been since the store opened. There till five in the evening, she's been amusing him all day with random updates.

He eagerly opens the picture to find Annie making a face in the corner of the frame, the shot focused on the crowded body of the store. The caption reads: _look at all these last-minute gift-buying assholes_.

Jeff snorts, saving the picture.

Some of his favorites from the collection include a picture of the Santa hired to sit in front of the store and read _A Visit from St. Nicholas_ at regular intervals captioned _Santa Stumbles-Over-Every Clause_ , a sneakily taken photo of Thorin smoking a joint in the back that reads _I hope he gets canned-abis_ , and, finally, a shot of Annie pouting—a Santa hat on her head—that's captioned _They wouldn't let me wear my menorah_.

Jeff exits the app. It's easier to check in with her via text: _how u holding up?_

It takes her a few minutes to respond, and when she does it's succinct: _tired. hungry. considering the merits of communism._

He grins widely. _i knew holiday retail would wear u down eventually_

She sends back an emoticon— _:P_

_Do u get a break?_

_SOON!!! Thorin promised me one in 30._

Sympathetic to her plight and urged on by the fact that he misses her (he saw her yesterday, but any Annie-less hour feels dull to him), Jeff changes into an outfit acceptable for being out in public. If he leaves now, he'll have just enough time to get the vegetable lo mein she likes from Wok of the 'Dale and a coffee.

He calls in the order as he's driving to the restaurant and is at the mall in twenty minutes flat. He grabs a coffee from the first cart he sees and then maneuvers through the seasonal traffic up to the second floor.

He's only waiting by the front entrance for a few minutes (long enough to confirm that the Santa is either terrible at public speaking or can't read) before Annie wanders out of the store, rifling through her wallet. Her hair is mussed from the Santa cap, her face flushed, and Jeff is rendered immobile for a second, paralyzed by how much he wants.

She notices him before he's recovered enough to call to her, and her entire demeanor changes. Skipping over to him, she wraps her arms around his waist and squeezes without a moment's hesitation. "What are you doing here?" she asks, smiling widely.

His hands are full, but he still manages to return the hug, enjoying the way her body feels pressed against his, soft and warm and perfectly curved.

"I thought I'd surprise you with dinner," he says once she pulls away.

"You didn't have to do that," she says, clearly touched.

"Fine," he teases, "I guess I'll just eat it myself."

She snatches the coffee out of his hands. "Like hell you will. I haven't eaten since breakfast. What’d you get me?"

They stake out an empty table usually reserved for customers of the pretzel stand and Jeff presents her with the takeout bag.

Annie unwraps the plastic fork, opens the carton, and inhales. "Hmm, my favorite." She shovels a huge forkful into her mouth, chews, and gulps it down. "Thank you so much, Jeff."

He shrugs. "It's no big deal."

"You braved Christmas Eve at the mall to spend a half hour with me. As far as I'm concerned, I owe you."

He watches fondly as she continues to attack her food. "I'll let you know when I wanna cash in," he promises.

She nods emphatically, mouth too full to talk.

"So," he starts after a stretch of silence, "what are we doing tomorrow?"

Annie wipes her mouth and takes a couple generous gulps of coffee, and he's irrationally fearful that she's forgotten they made plans. "You'll see. I've been working on a plan."

Jeff quietly sighs in relief. He considers pressing her for more details, but he knows how stubborn Annie is. He's just going to have to be surprised.

"Do I at least get to know when the festivities are scheduled to start?"

"I'll pick you up at your place around 11?"

Jeff eyes her suspiciously and plucks a piece of broccoli from between some noodles. "There's no hope at all that is going to be a low-key outing, is there?"

"What can I say? We Semites take Christmas very seriously."

He laughs dryly. "Eleven is perfect."

###

Annie can’t help overcommitting to things. Her tendency for unabashed enthusiasm just takes over.

That’s how she ends up at Jeff’s apartment decked out in green jeans, a red long-sleeved shirt, and a festive sweater vest. She couldn’t resist the urge to dress for the occasion.

"Um, wow," Jeff says after answering the door. "I suddenly feel underdressed."

He's in jeans and a sweater that's just the right color blue for him. It makes his eyes pop and his skin glow healthily. "You look gorgeous," Annie waves away his worry.

Jeff cocks an eyebrow at her. "Thank you?"

"Are you ready to go?"

"You'd be a better judge of that, Miss Secret Plan."

"I already have everything you'll need for the day," she smiles enigmatically, not giving anything away.

Jeff purses his lips, clearly intrigued, and grabs his coat. "Lead the way, then."

Her Honda Accord rumbles to life and a blast of static makes both of them groan before the radio begins broadcasting cheery, classic Christmas songs.

"You should really get a new car," Jeff says, clutching the upholstery of the passenger seat so tightly that his knuckles are white.

Annie coaxes her car up to an acceptable speed, the entire cab shaking with effort. "All my money and I will get right on it."

"You could always ask Troy to use his newfound fortune to buy you one for the next occasion that merits celebration."

 _My graduation_ , Annie thinks guiltily. Out loud she makes a noncommittal grunt, focusing intently on the road.

She's been trying to ignore that this coming semester will be her last at Greendale. A surprising majority of her hospital administration credits applied to the forensics degree, and she technically only needs twelve more to graduate.

Of course, that didn't stop her from registering for sixteen.

Still, she hasn't made any decisions about what she's going to do afterward, and she'd rather not ruin the day by bringing up her (possible) impending departure.

After twenty minutes of Christmas songs and little conversation, Jeff whines, "Are you ever going to tell me where we're going?"

"We're almost there," Annie says instead of answering his question.

A few minutes later, she pulls into the sparsely populated parking lot for a Thai food place.

"Uh," Jeff blinks quizzically. "I don't get it."

Annie grins mischievously at him, removes her keys from the ignition, pops the trunk, and gets out of the car.

She's slinging a hefty duffle bag over her shoulder when Jeff joins her. "Are we robbing this place?" he guesses.

She laughs. "No, but crime will be involved."

Jeff sputters as Annie starts walking to the line of trees that borders the furthest edge of the lot, in the opposite direction of the restaurant.

"Crime of what nature?" he asks after jogging to catch up.

"Misdemeanor stuff," she assures him.

The smattering of trees is thin, but navigating the snow-covered roots takes concentration. On the other side of the thicket, a vast, hilly landscape extends.

Annie leads the way with confidence, knowing exactly where she's headed.

Jeff's surveying the area, looking for clues as to where they are. Finally, once he's noticed a few red flags against the acres of white snow, he asks, "Are we on a golf course?"

"Uh-huh," she confirms.

"Why?"

"To play the back nine, duh."

"Would you stop speaking in riddles?"

Annie giggles. "No. It's too much fun. Plus, you should see your face right now."

He sulks silently until they reach a fairly large frozen pond. Annie drops the bag at the edge of the ice and crouches down to rifle through the contents. "We're going ice fishing," he speculates.

"Really?" she replies cheekily. "That's your first guess? I know you can do better than that."

He just glares at her, waiting for the big reveal.

"Fine," she relents, pulling out two pairs of ice skates. "Ta-da!"

Jeff gets closer and accepts the shoes she hands him. "These are actually my skates," he exclaims after examining them. "How did you get these?"

"They were in your coat closet," Annie says, already tugging off her boots and lacing up. He gapes at her. "I took the liberty of retrieving them when I spent the night on Wednesday,” she elaborates.

Jeff joins her on the ground. "And if we get caught here? I wouldn’t think you’d want trespassing on your record."

Annie stands gingerly and teeters onto the ice. "I know the owner from NA." She starts skating along the edge of the pond. "He's cool with us being here."

Jeff rolls his eyes. "And the Thai food place? Our trek across the frozen tundra?"

"Dramatic effect," she smirks.

He stands on his skates and glides to her, pushing off from the solid ground. He doesn’t slow as he nears, and Annie tries to dodge him. But he’s too quick, grabbing onto her hands and hurling her into a spin. She breaks away after a moment, using the momentum to do a basic twirl before coming to a stop toward the center of the pond.

He’s smiling at her and Annie feels dizzy from both the turning and the way his beaming leaves her lightheaded. "You know, there are actual ice skating rinks. You didn't need to go through all this trouble."

She skates circles around him. "It's worth it to be alone, don't you think?"

Jeff glances around them. There's absolutely no one around, and the silence is peaceful. His gaze lands back on her, and he gives her a fond smile. "Yeah, it is."

Time ceases to exist in their little pocket of the world. They skate around until they're bored and panting from exertion. Once they've collapsed in the snow—effectively soaking their pants—and changed back into their boots, Annie produces a thermos full of hot chocolate and pristinely decorated sugar cookies.

"Healthy," Jeff says dryly.

"It's Christmas," is Annie's explanation.

He squints uncertainly a while longer before grabbing one. "Why not? Merry Christmas, Annie."

She smiles and bites the head off an angel. "Merry Christmas, Jeff."

They sit in pleasant silence, passing the thermos back and forth. Annie sighs happily and lets her head fall against Jeff's shoulder.

Her eyes become heavy with the serenity of the moment, and she's perfectly relaxed, breathing the cold, biting air into her lungs.

The peace of the moment is suddenly shattered when Jeff smashes a clump of snow into the top of her head.

"Snowball fight!" he declares, scrambling to his feet and already packing another ball.

"Oh, no, you did not!" Annie plays up her outrage and takes off toward a grouping of evergreen trees. A few snowballs hit her retreating figure, and once she gets under relative cover, she ducks down to make some ammo.

She has three sloppily constructed balls when Jeff pops around the trees. Expecting him, Annie lobs one right at his face and runs off again.

"Hey, watch the face," he protests.

"All's fair in war," Annie calls over her shoulder.

She's running with all she's got toward one of the larger hills when she hears Jeff gaining on her.

She turns to throw her remaining two snowballs at him, nailing him in the stomach and arm, but it barely slows him down. He lunges for her, pouncing and knocking them both to the ground.

They roll a short distance, a mess of limbs and icy wetness, till friction gets the best of them. Annie lands on top, her body partially draped over Jeff.

Their faces are inches apart.

"I win," Jeff says, grinning up at her.

He's so tall and Annie doesn't get many opportunities to be this close to Jeff's face. His eyes are especially vibrant at this angle and his lips are chapped from their afternoon in the cold.

Unconsciously, she licks her own lips.

Jeff's eyes are drawn to the action, and when he looks up to meet her stare again, there's a look of unrestrained _want_ in his eyes.

"Jeff," her voice comes out in a gasp, without volume.

His hand runs up her side. There are so many layers of fabric in the way, but it still makes her whine softly.

They're stuck at the crossroad, neither of them willing to make the next move just yet, when the watery grey clouds suddenly release a few flakes of snow.

Both of them look toward the sky without breaking their holding pattern.

The few flakes quickly give way to a flurry.

Jeff and Annie spring into action, standing and dusting each other off, before running back to the pond for Annie's bag of goodies.

By the time they reach her car, they're both drenched through with melting snow and covered with fresh flakes. Annie tosses the duffle bag in the backseat and turns the heater on full blast.

Jeff clears his throat. "Are we," he struggles for a minute before starting over. "Does that put an end to the evening?"

She checks the clock. It's only 3:30. "Hardly," Annie says. "Once the sun goes down, there's a procession of lights I thought we could go see."

He brushing the snow out of his hair. "Okay. Where's that?"

"City College." She winces when he looks at her in surprise, and defends herself. "It's close by and free." Jeff shrugs. "We just won't tell Dean Pelton."

"Agreed."

They stop by Jeff's apartment so he can get a change of clothes and then drive back to Annie's place. Troy's home not celebrating Christmas with his family, and Abed went with Rachel to her parents' house, so Jeff and Annie have the apartment to themselves.

Once they're inside and experiencing the wonders of central heating, it becomes clear they're not going anywhere else.

They spend the rest of the evening flipping between Christmas specials, eating leftovers from the group's Christmas dinner, and trading stories of holiday horrors.

And for the second time that week, they fall asleep on a couch together, snuggled close.


	8. 2d of 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Word Count:** 6,950  
>  **Disclaimer:** These characters belong to Dan Harmon, etc., etc. I simply enjoy manipulating them.  
>  **Author's Note:** My beta, bethanyactually, is truly a gift. Her careful edits make my story sparkle, and I love her. The title of the story comes from a Four Star Mary song called "She Knows."  
>  This is the last section of part two. I hope you guys like it. :)

“I must say, Jeffrey, I was surprised when you called to set up an appointment. We haven’t met in nearly two years.”

Jeff shrugs. Dr. Katdare’s office has barely changed since he was last there. A few new photos of her family adorn the walls and there’s a new certification on display. But the room is the same distracting burnt orange and the clinical feel of the leather upholstery on the chairs still makes him feel as though he’s under acute scrutiny. Every tiny movement of his is accompanied by a squeak so he can’t even shift his weight without the doctor knowing.

He’s confessed to and relived a lot of unpleasantness within these walls.

“I’d like to discuss what brought about your decision to come see me again.”

“Okay,” he sighs. “I guess I’ve just been feeling really different lately, and—I don’t know—I don’t trust my emotions.”

Dr. Katdare hums and makes a note on her legal pad. “Different how?”

Jeff feels his brow furrow in concentration. “Different…good.”

The doctor glances up, surprised. “Oh?”

“Yeah. I mean, I don’t have everything that I wanted out of life. I’m a teacher instead of a lawyer. I’m always scrambling to make ends meet financially. But, lately, that stuff’s mattered less and less. Who gets everything they want, anyway?”

“Tell me more about what led you to this conclusion.”

“I guess…I’ve realized that there are people in my life who I love and consider above all else. And they seem to love and consider me above all else, too. And maybe the relationship isn’t exactly what I want it to be, but having her in my life is enough.”

“This relationship—this person whom you love—nullifies your insecurities about being unlovable.”

“I think so.”

Dr. Katdare makes some more notes. “Let’s revisit what you said earlier about not trusting your emotions.”

“Okay.”

“What makes you say that?”

Jeff runs a hand through his hair. “I’m just worried that my happiness is too dependent on her. I’m worried that’s not fair, and I can’t trust it to last.”

Dr. Katdare nods enthusiastically, scribbling quickly as Jeff speaks. “I think these are valid concerns and worth consideration. We can work on that together. It will take a certain degree of reflection on your part; I’d like to understand what you’ve been experiencing these last two years. However, I want to note that I’m quite impressed by the self-awareness you’ve displayed in our conversation thus far. I want to move forward having established that you’ve made fantastic progress toward mental health. You shouldn’t hesitate to trust your emotions.”

He exhales in a gust, feeling surprisingly soothed. “Okay.”

“I’d like to begin with the time immediately after your graduation. It’s my understanding that you opened your own firm. Tell me about that.”

So he does. Jeff talks for a full forty minutes about the emotionally tumultuous year and a half he’s had.

Dr. Katdare listens attentively, humming at some of the weightier parts of his tale and asking prompting questions. She has a page and a half of notes by the time he falls silent. His throat is dry and he needs water, but he doesn’t move a muscle. He wants to hear the doctor’s assessment.

“Well, you’ve been through a lot. I wish you would have continued to see me throughout your experiences, but I also understand the merits of a solitary emotional journey. That’s not to say you’ve reached a definitive end to your voyage, but you’ve truly made impressive leaps and bounds. The mind is always growing and changing, Jeffrey, and happiness is almost always fleeting. The good news is sadness is also temporary. I would really like it if you came back to me next week for a follow-up, as we are currently out of time. In the meantime, do not back away from what makes you feel secure simply because you fear it won’t last.”

Jeff nods heavily and asks “Same time next week?”

She looks pleased. “Of course. I’ll pencil you in. Take care, Jeffrey.”

He grabs his coat and is almost to the door when he turns back. “You too.”

Dr. Katdare smiles kindly.

Once he’s in his car, Jeff feels buoyant and weightless, rolling the doctor’s advice around in his head. After a moment of consideration, he takes out his phone and dials a number he knows by heart.

Annie answers almost immediately. “Hey you. What’s up?”

“Hey. I’m about to go home and binge watch reruns of ‘Seinfeld’. You in?”

“I’ll be over in twenty minutes.”

“Perfect.”

###

“How have I gone thirty-four years without owning one of these?” Britta holds up a ceramic duck with a missing eye dressed in raingear and makes a face at Annie.

“Because your cats might go into fear-induced cardiac arrest if they came face to face with that thing,” she retorts. Britta frowns and sets the duck back down.

“Would you two stop touching everything? You’re worse than my boys at the supermarket.”

“Yes, mom,” Britta teases under her breath. Shirley shoots her a warning look that actually gives Annie sympathetic chills.

“I just need to hock this horrendous lamp Andre’s parents got us, and then we can go get lunch. I trust you two can act like adults for another thirty minutes?”

“Yes, Shirley,” they say in unison.

Every year after Christmas, Shirley catalogues all the presents she received from her extended family into three categories: keep, donate to charity, and trade in. She sends thank-you cards for everything, and then promptly gets rid of the stuff she doesn’t like.

This year, she invited Annie and Britta to come along so they could have a girls’ day. They’ve been to three separate flea markets—one in a rundown barn and two in large warehouses—in four hours. Annie’s feeling sluggish from the sensory overload. Still, it’s nice to get an extra-strength dose of estrogen. She hasn’t spent time with just Shirley and Britta in too long.

“You know, if people cared less about having the latest commodities all this stuff would be put to good use.”

Annie holds up a mannequin torso and arm, for sale separately. “I’m not sure half this stuff has _use_ , let alone good use.”

Shirley comes back from a table of antiques, folding a few bills into her wallet. “You two ready to go? Lunch is on me.”

They find a bakery a little closer to Greendale. Britta gets grilled cheese and tomato soup, Shirley orders a Greek salad and half a sandwich, and Annie tries the black bean soup and a turkey panini.

They pick a table close to the roaring fireplace in the middle of the floor.

“Not working has been driving me up a wall,” Shirley sighs, eyeing her sandwich forlornly. “I can’t wait for the semester to start.”

“I’m oddly pumped to go back, too,” Britta says, stirring her soup. “Duncan and I have been throwing around ideas for the psychology department, and he’s probably going to let me do a study with therapy and gender.”

Shirley shoots Annie a look that makes her giggle.

“What?” Britta demands. “You don’t think I can do it?”

“No, it’s nothing like that,” Annie assures her.

“We have every faith in you,” Shirley adds.

“It’s just—” Annie breaks off, unsure how to phrase it.

“I’ll bet Duncan would love to conduct a study in _gender_ with you.” Shirley smiles and raises her eyebrows suggestively.

“C’mon guys,” Britta says. “He’s actually…kinda respectful. I mean, he does leer a lot, but I think he means well.” Annie and Shirley exchange skeptical glances. “I’m serious! He’s alright.”

“You two have been getting close?” Shirley asks, spearing leaves of lettuce with her fork.

“I mean, we’ve hung out a few times over break. We haven’t done anything, if that’s what you’re asking.” Britta blushes, looking uncharacteristically shy.

“But?” Annie prompts curiously.

“I don’t know. The more time I spend with him, the less repulsive he seems. It’s weird.”

“You _liiiike_ him,” Annie singsongs, teasing.

“No!” Britta rebukes. “Maybe. I think I _could_ like him. But I know that he has a thing for me, and I don’t want to lead him on, okay? Can we talk about something else now? Let’s make fun of Annie and Jeff.”

Annie gasps, offended.

“Oh, don’t give me that,” Britta stabs her fork in Annie’s direction.

“Now, now, Britta. If Jeff and Annie want to simmer in unresolved sexual tension forever, who are we to judge?”

“I have a boyfriend,” Annie reminds them.

“And when’s the last time you talked to the poor sucker?” Britta asks pointedly.

“He’s on vacation with his family,” she says defensively, picking the onions off her sandwich.

“That sounds like code for _I haven’t_.”

Annie sticks her tongue out at Britta, who smirks in response, and turns to Shirley, eager to redirect the conversation. “So how’re things with Andre?”

Shirley sighs heavily. “Hot and cold as ever. Luckily, the kids don’t suspect anything. My parents, of course, blame me for not being able to make things work. I think we both wanted a lot out of life, including a family, but we weren’t ready to give certain things up. And now it’s a mess.”

Annie grips Shirley’s hand. “For what it’s worth, I’m proud of you for following your dreams. You made Shirley’s Sandwiches a reality and your boys love you.”

“And I have you guys,” she coos.

“We all have wacky, wishy-washy men in our lives and we still manage to kick so much ass,” Britta says, raising her water cup. “To badass women everywhere!”

“To badass women!” Shirley and Annie echo and touch their cups to Britta’s.

“Speaking of badass,” Britta continues, “Annie graduates with her _second_ Bachelors this spring, don’t you?”

“How did you know that?”

“Neil and Vicky came into The Alley Cat a few days ago. She works in the bursar’s office, and it came up that you were done after this semester.”

“Why haven’t you said anything?” Shirley asks.

“I don’t know. I guess I didn’t want to worry you guys. I’m not sure what I’m going to do after graduation. I mean, I’ve applied to a few grad schools and for some internships, but I haven’t heard anything back. You know how poorly the group handles change. And we all just got back together. You won’t say anything yet, right?”

“Of course not, sweetie.”

“This is a huge accomplishment,” Britta prods. “I’m sure everyone’ll be happy for you no matter what.”

Annie bites her bottom lip. “That’s not in question.”

Britta sighs. “Fine. I’ll keep it on the down-low. But I still think it’s unnecessary.”

Annie glares intently at her. “Promise me you really won’t say anything. We both know how much trouble you have keeping secrets.”

“You don’t seem to mind when it’s convenient for you,” Britta points out cheekily.

“I won’t tease you about Duncan if you don’t say anything.”

Britta purses her lips, obviously interested in the deal. Finally, she holds out her hand so she and Annie can shake on it. “I promise.”

Annie lets out a sigh of relief.

“I hope you know I’m still going to tease the hell out of you,” Shirley says.

Annie smirks and Britta rolls her eyes. “Whatever. I hate you guys.”

“We love you, too,” Annie quips.

Britta tries to maintain her sour expression, but it quickly melts into a soft smile. “Yeah, yeah.”

###

Thorin invites the gang to his cabin in the woods for New Year’s Eve.

Actually, he had posted an invitation in the Barnes and Noble break room (probably because he’s a high-school burnout whose only friends are other high-school burnouts), and Annie asked if the Save Greendale committee could tag along. Thorin had agreed easily (probably in part because he still wants to get in Britta’s pants).

Jeff was less than thrilled about attending, but Annie had put her foot down (like, literally stomped) and insisted they had to go lest they make her look bad.

“Plus, I can’t help feeling bad for the guy. He doesn’t seem to have many friends,” Annie had said.

“That’s my problem how?”

“Jeff,” she had whined, “I know you’re the cool, detached guy, but I remember what it was like to be lonely, reaching out to anyone who might listen. It’s just one night, and it might mean the world to him.”

And, when that reasoning hadn’t worked, she resorted to the Disney eyes.

That’s how Jeff found himself agreeing to make the 40-minute drive, giving Britta, Abed, and Duncan a ride. Troy and Shirley were coming out together later, after work and a family gathering respectively. Annie would be there after she closed the bookstore.

Britta should have been working, but she faked an illness and slammed some unfortunate newbie with her shift. Then she insisted Duncan come along to the party.

(Jeff feels echoes of his old competitiveness, but, hey, Duncan's been trying to get in good with Britta for years. If she actually wants him around, he's happy for both his friends.)

Presently, she's sitting in his passenger seat, gesturing emphatically with a bottle of vodka and coming close to spilling it all over his recently-cleaned leather interior.

"I'm jus’ sayin’, fireworks are unethical." She punctuates her point by slamming the base of her bottle against his glove compartment.

“Would you watch that?” he snaps for the umpteenth time and grabs for the bottle.

Britta cradles it against her chest and glares at him with distrust. “It is my right as a ‘Merican to consume alcohol however I please.”

“Well it’s my right, as the owner of this car, to leave you on the side of this dirt path and make you walk to the party.”

“I'd call that a liberal interpretation of property rights," Duncan says from the backseat.

"What would you know about it, you British buffoon?"

"John Locke, you egotistical wanker."

"You just passed the turnoff," Abed says.

Jeff slams on the brakes and throws the car into reverse. After a second of backtracking, he sees the sign that must have tipped off Abed: white posterboard tacked to a tree with the words "Cabin Jones Straight Ahead" scrawled sloppily in marker.

The path winds deeper into the woods than Jeff expected, and he has to concentrate on navigating his car around tree roots, grumbling about his just-detailed car and how he wouldn't have agreed to come if he'd known they were visiting Ron Swanson's kin.

Finally, the woods open up to a clearing. Off to the left is a mess of cars parked every which way in the snow-dusted grass. Straight ahead, a frozen pond extends, glinting with the reflection of multi-colored lights strung around nearby vegetation, till the wall of trees at the far end—ominously opaque in the darkness—gobbles up the edge of the water.

The cabin itself stands slightly off to the right, built into a small hill. Trees are scattered around the structure. There's a large porch with hand-carved rocking chairs, a table set up for beer pong, and a few guests clustered by the propped-open front door. More strings of multi-colored lights outline the house, making it glow warmly.

"This guy's a regular Walt Whitman, huh?" Jeff muses as he eases his car into the muddle of other vehicles.

“‘And now it seems to me the beautiful uncut hair of graves…The smallest sprout shows there is really no death,/And if ever there was it led forward life, and does not wait/at the end to arrest it/And ceas’d the moment life appear’d./All goes onward and outward, nothing collapses,/And to die is different from what any one supposed, and/luckier’."

The group stares blankly at Abed. Finally, Britta cranes her neck to get a better look at him and asks, "Did you write that? 'Sbeautiful."

"It's Walt Whitman. 'Song of Myself’?" Everyone continues to gape. "Professor Kane offered extra credit to anyone who memorized a section for the midterm. He seemed to really like grass, so I memorized that section."

"That was about grass? Sounded like someone on suicide watch to me," Jeff narrows his eyes.

"You're missing the greater context," Abed explains. "It's about the cycle created by life and death. To die is to become one with the earth, which is alive, so dying really isn't that sad because it begets more life."

"How 'bout that?" Duncan clasps Abed on the shoulder. "Let's go get wasted."

"Noooo!" Britta shouts in the vicinity of Jeff's ear. "You're doing s'well with sober…ness."

" _Sobriety_ ," Jeff coughs into his hand.

Britta bares her teeth at him and growls, "I know."

"There's more than one way to get wasted." Duncan winks and pulls a joint out of his coat pocket.

Abed frowns. "I was really looking forward to you developing a character outside dependency on a mind-altering substance, but your inebriated antics _are_ a hit with the audience."

Duncan shakes his head in amazement as they exit the car. "So much untapped paper potential."

"I don't need therapy. Unless it's from Britta."

"Yeah!" Britta says. "Abed knows what's up." She holds her hands behind her back, palms facing up, and Abed slaps them as best he can with her bottle of vodka still clenched between her thumb and pointer finger. Then she crouches down. "Leapfrog handshake!"

Jeff wants to close his eyes, worried Abed's going to kick Britta in the head or something, but he can't quite bring himself to look away. Thanks to Abed's long, matchstick legs, he jumps over her with ease.

Not wanting to be associated with the weirdos, Jeff walks ahead, nodding at the people on the porch as he pushes his way inside the cabin.

The yellow ceiling lights cast a strange, otherworldly glow on the wooden walls. Several people are gathered in the living room on plush, overstuffed couches, and there's a TV in the corner playing the Dick Clark New Year's Rockin' Eve special, though Jeff can't hear it because there's also a stereo pumping out dance music. A hookah is set up on the coffee table, and people are taking hits and shouting back and forth at each other.

Walking further into the house, Jeff finds the kitchen is on a raised platform, accessible by three wooden stairs. A handrail etched with ornate carvings surrounds the space, setting it off from the rest of the house. Red plastic cups, empty bottles of liquor, and beer cans litter the counters.

The hall to what Jeff assumes are the bedrooms is crowded with people making out, talking, and dancing to the blaring music.

He feels overwhelmed, wishing Annie would just hurry up and get there. He can already picture the way her nose will crinkle in distaste, can imagine her rooting through the kitchen for a trash bag to clean up some of the clutter.

"Britta's in the house!" someone in the living room shouts, and Jeff turns to see Britta gritting her teeth in an insincere smile. "Get over here Perry!"

Abed appears at Jeff's elbow. "I fear Britta seeing her high-school peers will result in some kind of breakdown later."

"Later? She drank an entire bottle of vodka on the drive over here."

Abed frowns, nodding, before pointing to an open door Jeff hadn't noticed. "I'm going to check out the basement. Coming?"

Jeff follows Abed into the cold, carpeted lower level. It's lit exclusively by the same multi-colored lights hanging outside and is sectioned in half. One side is cluttered with games—an old pinball machine, a carnival-esque basketball game, foosball, and a pool table—while the other side is for lounging. A giant television rests against the wall—also playing the Dick Clark special—and several people are packed into the two couches there, chain smoking.

There’s a sliding glass door that leads outside, cracked open to let the smoke dissipate.

Some of the people nod at Jeff and Abed, but they’re mostly ignored.

Jeff heads right for the pool table. “Wanna play a game?” Abed shrugs in agreement, and Jeff starts racking the table.

They play in silence for a while, both splitting their attention between the game and the TV.

Abed’s the one to eventually speak. “Remember when we all dressed up as celebrities and you had a mental breakdown at a random child’s bar mitzvah?”

“No, please, tell me more about my past embarrassments.”

“You had just been put on anti-anxiety medication and were personally offended when you didn’t win the Most Handsome award.”

Jeff runs a hand over his face. “I was being sarcastic, Abed. Why do you bring it up?”

He shrugs. “Troy and I had our first major fight because of that. It was over pretty quickly, but I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately.”

Jeff clears his throat. He’s not too good at the emotional pep talk—and he’s struck again by his need for Annie to show up already—but Abed’s talked him through some dark times. So he ignores his discomfort and dives in. “Because you’ve been fighting recently?”

Abed nods. “I don’t know how to not be mad at him. For leaving.”

Jeff concentrates on knocking another striped ball in a corner pocket before answering. “You feel what you feel, right? It’s not like you can trick yourself into not being mad.”

“I know.”

“But?”

“But if I don’t know how to stop, how will we ever be Trobed again?”

Jeff resists the urge to roll his eyes. “Look, Abed, it’s not like I have much experience with these matters. But the best I can tell, the way to stop feeling things like anger or regret or sadness is to deal with those emotions. The only way out is through or whatever.”

“You’re saying I should talk to him.”

“I think so? You have to find what _through_ means for you, whether that’s talking or dealing on your own time.”

“Every time we talk, we fight.”

“Look, buddy, I’m not going to force you into anything. Do…whatever you want to do.”

For some reason, Abed’s eyes widen and then he averts his gaze, staring down at the pool table, his eyebrows drawn together.

They play for a while longer, listening to the people on the couch talk and the festivities unfold on the TV. Jeff’s in the middle of racking a third game when there’s a loud crash upstairs followed by an irate voice that Jeff immediately recognizes as Britta’s shouting, “I am _not_ still Prickly Perry, you jag! My whole _gender_ is lucky you’re bad at hitting on women. I hope you die sad and alone and don’t even have a _dog_ that loves you!”

Abed flashes Jeff a knowing grimace before darting up the stairs.

Jeff is right behind him, and they reach the landing just in time to see Britta barely grazing her fist against the face of some guy wearing an orange hunting vest.

Duncan, since he was closer to begin with, gets to Britta faster than Jeff or Abed can. He wraps a hand around her forearm and starts tugging her toward the front door. “Come on, Maggie Fitzgerald. Let’s get some air.”

“That’s right Red Coat, control your woman.”

“First of all,” Duncan rounds on the man, “Britta belongs to no one. Second, did you just use an American War of Independence reference to insult me?”

“That was from the Revolutionary War, you idiot.”

“Those are two names for the same war, you knob!”

Hunting Vest lunges for Duncan’s throat, and Jeff surges forward to herd the scrapping men toward the door. A few guys help him, and they separate Duncan and Hunting Vest once they’ve gotten outside.

Jeff notices a few snowflakes falling lazily and a car’s headlights lighting up the clearing before his attention is once again focused on keeping Duncan contained.

Britta hobbles out of the house—still obviously fuming—and Jeff calls to Abed, who’s on her heels, “Restrain her.”

“Hey,” Britta protests when Abed locks his arms around her waist and drags her over to where Jeff’s standing.

“Does anyone have a roll of quarters? I want to teach this jessie a trick Chang showed me once.”

“Duncan, I say this as a friend: that guy could rip you in half like the gummy bear you are. Let it go,” Jeff says in his ear.

“Oh right, that’s real friendly,” Duncan complains. But he stops struggling against Jeff’s grasp, so Jeff cuts him loose.

“What’s going on here?” Shirley asks as she and Troy approach the group.

Hunting Vest answers before any of them can. “Prickly Perry couldn’t take a joke, as usual, and assaulted me.”

“I’m sorry,” Shirley says, sickly sweet and clearly not sorry at all, “but I was asking my friends.”

“That Neanderthal hit on me and then couldn’t handle my rejection so I punched him in the face but I’m drunk so I missed and I’m still angry but Abed won’t let me _hit him again_!” Britta yells her explanation way louder than called for, straining against Abed's arms the whole time.

“Brit-ta, why don’t you go nap in my van?”

“Oh,” Britta drops her hostile stance. “A nap sounds good.”

“I’ll keep an eye on her,” Duncan offers.

Shirley nods, smirking to herself, and drops the keys into Duncan’s waiting hand. Then she turns to Hunting Vest and his friends. “What would your mom think about you disrespecting women and their personal space? You should be ashamed of yourself.”

Jeff snorts, but for some odd reason Shirley’s guilt trip works. Hunting Vest actually looks ashamed for a moment and mumbles an apology before going back inside, cursing Britta for having dumb, sensitive friends.

“Can you sense people’s weaknesses or something?” Jeff asks her.

“That was badass,” Troy says.

Shirley just giggles and walks away.

Troy, Abed, and Jeff exchange dumbfounded looks before following after her.

She finds Thorin in the kitchen and thanks him for his generous invitation. After a few minutes of small talk—wherein Thorin never contributes more than a syllable at a time—they excuse themselves and go down to the basement.

The couches have been vacated, so the group takes them over.

“How was work?” Jeff asks Troy.

“Weird. I don’t think very many people want me there, so they kind of pretend I don’t exist. The first day I went to the bathroom eight times when I didn’t even have to pee to make sure I hadn’t turned invisible.”

Jeff cocks his head, barely containing his urge to make a sarcastic comment.

Abed saves him from having to say anything at all. “It would have been pretty cool if you _had_ turned invisible.”

Several emotions play across Troy’s face—hesitation, hope, and elation—before he settles on a friendly smile. “Imagine all the office hijinks I’d be able to pull off.”

“Like moving people’s coffee mugs and driving them nuts.”

“And convincing people the printer can talk.”

“Pretending to be Piece back from the dead.”

Troy lights up. “Oh that’s good.”

The stairs creak and Jeff looks up from his phone.

There she is. Finally. _And she’s still in her uniform_.

“Hey guys,” Annie greets—chipper for someone who worked a closing shift—and bounds directly to the empty space on the couch next to Jeff. “You’re being awfully anti-social down here. Where’s Britta?”

“She got into a drunken brawl with a thick-necked, high-school classmate and is now napping in Shirley’s van,” Abed summarizes. “That’s why we’re laying low down here.”

Annie blinks, taking it all in. “How long have you guys been here?”

“Troy and I got here twenty minutes ago,” Shirley says.

“And I got everyone else here around 9:30,” Jeff adds.

Annie checks her watch. “So, it only took you an hour and a half to stir up trouble. Sounds like a new record.”

“You can take the group of crazy people out of Greendale, but you can’t take the Greendale out of the crazy people,” Jeff jokes.

“That’s terrible,” she says. But she’s smiling wide at him and Jeff swears he can see her eyes twinkle.

“How was your first time closing the store?”

Annie fiddles with the buttons on her polo. “I think I did everything right, but I guess I’ll find out when I go in on Sunday.”

“I have complete confidence in your neurotic ways. I’m sure everything was perfect.”

Annie glares impishly at him and pokes his side. “I’ve had a long day, and I will have none of your complisults.”

Jeff grabs her arm to stop her jabbing and grazes his thumb along the silky soft skin just inside her wrist. Her face flushes a creamy pink and she bites her lip, but she doesn’t drop his gaze.

Jeff feels his heart constrict, almost painfully.

“Seriously, you two,” Shirley clucks her tongue.

“Googly eyes,” Troy says.

It’s Jeff’s turn to blush. He’d actually forgotten there were other people in the room.

They watch a few of the performances on TV—Jeff’s struck by how removed he is from what’s popular these days, though he’s not exactly enticed into catching up either—before Britta and Duncan join them.

Jeff notes Annie’s strange reaction to the two of them together: her eyes go wide and she opens her mouth as if to say something. But Britta shoots her a meaningful look, and Annie snaps her mouth shut.

Then she stands and stretches. “You guys can have my seat,” she offers. “I’m feeling restless anyway.”

Jeff gets up as well, not about to let her out of his sight. “Wanna play pool?”

She glances at the table and turns back to smile at him. “Sure.”

As he’s racking up another game, he reviews the rules of stripes versus solids. She listens attentively, and when he asks her if she wants to break the table she smirks—all cocksure and sexy—and takes a cue from him.

It goes horribly, though. Annie’s aim is all off and she frowns when the pyramid of balls is barely scattered. He feels bad when she turns to glare at him, but Jeff can’t help chuckling at her.

“Want to try again?”

She flips her hair over her shoulder haughtily, considering. “Fine,” she answers, as if she’s doing it for his benefit.

He can’t keep the grin off his face as he resets the table. As she lines up her shot, Jeff pays closer attention to her technique.

Again, she grazes the side of the cue ball with the point of her stick and only manages to knock a few of the balls out of their starting formation. She snarls.

“Hey,” Jeff gets behind her and squeezes her shoulders. “I know you’re used to being perfect at everything, but it’s okay to have faults. I mean, not everyone can be as rugged and naturally skilled as me when it comes to pool.”

Annie snorts and elbows him in the ribs. “It’s hitting balls with a stick on a felt table, Jeff. Being good at that hardly makes you _rugged_.”

“Do you want me to help you or not?”

She makes a noncommittal grunt in the back of her throat.

He tickles at her sides until she submits.

“Okay!” she relents, a little breathless. “You’re very rugged and your abs are hotter than Chris Pratt’s. Happy?”

Someone on the couch makes exaggerated gagging noises.

“Ecstatic.” He racks the balls again and then moves back behind her. “Go ahead and line up your shot,” he says. Annie leans over the table, gripping the base of the cue in her right hand and directing the tip with her left.

Jeff takes a moment to glance back at Abed. He’s engaged in a conversation with Britta, who’s describing a strange dream she had out in the car in minute detail, and Jeff feels satisfied that his attention will be occupied for a while.

He doesn’t want Abed to see him make a clichéd move on Annie. There’s no way he wouldn’t call Jeff out on it, and Jeff’s intentions are _totally_ innocent. He’s only trying to instruct his dear friend in the delicate art of pool.

Jeff gulps and then leans over Annie, sliding his left hand over hers and cupping her elbow with his right. “Is this okay?” he asks low in her ear—the hairs loose from her ponytail tickling his cheek—as he slides his palm down her forearm to circle her wrist. Her skin pimples with goosebumps in his wake.

She makes a sound that seems an awful lot like a whimper to him and his head is swimming in the rich musk of coconut shampoo and _Annie_ and, fuck, did someone set his skin on fire? Because it certainly feels like it.

She tries to discreetly clear her throat before she manages a dry, whispered, “Yes.”

“Okay. Good. So, um, pool.” _Very smooth, Winger. Welcome back to middle school, where mere proximity to a girl turns you into a blubbering idiot._

He manages to get it together long enough to convey what she’s doing wrong and help guide her shot _without_ conveying the serious erection he has.

They play through most of a game—and he tries not to be disappointed when she shows improvement immediately—before someone shouts down the stairs, “Five minutes to midnight! Come get your New Year’s toast!”

The group makes their way upstairs and joins the line to get plastic flutes of cheap champagne.

All of the partygoers have gathered in the living room of the not-particularly-large cabin, and Jeff and Annie are pushed toward the open front door, losing sight of the others.

Annie's shivering a little, and Jeff notices for the first time that she's not wearing a jacket.

“Where’s your coat?” he asks.

“Two minutes!” the crowd cheers.

She casts her gaze away, looking shy. “I was in a hurry to get here, and I locked it in the manager’s office.”

“I have a hoodie in my car. C’mon.”

They set their glasses down on the porch railing, and Annie follows him outside. The snow is still falling, and everything is dusted white.

Jeff finds his car by the dim light cast from the cabin and pops the trunk. He pulls out the thick, grey, zip-up hoodie he bought from his gym and hands it to her.

She hums gratefully and pushes her arms through the sleeves before tugging the zipper all the way up. One stubborn point of her collar curls around the hoodie and flakes of snow are catching in the wisps of hair that have slipped loose from her ponytail and, god, the way she’s smiling at him….

Without another thought, Jeff takes a step forward, leaning down to her, and wraps his arms around her waist. Annie gasps, but she reciprocates without hesitation, getting on her tip-toes to hug him around his neck.

He inhales deep, and the people inside yell, “One minute!”

She reluctantly lets go. “We should go back in?”

Jeff shoves his hands deep in the pockets of his jeans. “Yeah, I suppose so.”

As they’re crossing in front of the pond, the people inside start chanting, “Ten…nine…eight….”

Annie looks up at him with an achingly tender smile. “We’re so close to a new beginning.”

“Seven…six….”

“Wait!” Jeff grabs at Annie’s hand. “Actually, can we just…?”

He doesn’t have to finish his sentence. The wide-eyed, wistful look she gets on her face lets him know she understands what he wants.

“Five…four….”

She pivots so that she’s standing in front of him, and she toys with his fingers with both her hands.

“Three….”

“I think this year’s going to be good,” she says.

“Two….”

“Me too,” he says. It’s weird that he isn’t lying, but he’s never felt more optimistic.

“One…Happy New Year!”

###

Annie gets home from work around three on Sunday. The manager on duty had only nice things to say about her close on New Year's Eve, school starts on Monday, and Annie's in an unshakable good mood.

She bought a handful of new notebooks, a binder, some colorful dividers, and a bunch of pens from the office supply store in the mall in preparation for the coming semester. After changing into comfier clothes, she sets to work labeling and organizing everything.

Annie _lives_ for the start of the semester: the smell of books new and old, shiny new supplies, and the promise of uncovering knowledge.

The thought that this could be her last semester for a long time makes the prospect of graduate school much more appealing than an internship.

She's just starting to pack up her backpack with everything she'll need for Monday classes when her phone vibrates loudly on her nightstand. Flopping across her bed to reach it, Annie doesn't check the number before she answers. She's supposed to meet with Jeff so he can use her as a trial audience for his new Intro to Law first-day PowerPoint.

"Ready for me to come over?" she asks.

"Hello to you, too," an unexpected voice answers with a chuckle. "I'm glad I'm not the only one eager to reconnect."

Annie has to pull the phone away from her ear to check the caller ID; she's _that_ unprepared to be hearing from Dom. "Oh, hey," she tries to cover her disappointment. "Did you just get back?"

"Not just. I had some things to organize before I called. I made us a dinner reservation at a nice Italian place not too far from you, and I'm already on my way. Meet me there? It's called Bocca al Lupo."

Annie gulps, mentally cursing herself for not being better primed for this conversation. But if she doesn't say something now, she's going to cost them both gas money, time, and their dignity. "Actually, Dom, I had something I—"

He cuts her off, "I have a lot to tell you, too. Let's save it all till we're face to face. I missed you so much, Annie. See you in forty!"

And, just like that, he hangs up.

" _Fudge nuggets_." Annie throws her phone down onto her bed. So much for that good mood.

She takes a moment to assess her options and quickly decides she should call him back.

When he doesn't answer, Annie gets up and starts pacing, fueled by nerves and frustration. Standing him up would certainly get his attention, but—as tempting as it is—Annie knows she can't do it like that.

Left with few other options, she searches for Dom's class ring (which she'd taken off toward the beginning of winter break), changes into something a little nicer, and sends Jeff a vague text about probably having to meet later than they'd planned before getting in her car, phone GPS set for Bocca al Lupo.

By the time she gets to the restaurant, Annie has a speech all mapped out in her brain. Best-case scenario, he's waiting for her outside and she can blurt it all out, give him the ring, and then they can part ways.

But, of course, though Dom's car is in the lot, he's not out front.

Annie gives his name at the host's stand and is led through the dimly-lit restaurant to a table for two in the center of the floor.

 _Just great_ , Annie thinks.

"Annie," Dom greets with unabashed enthusiasm. He gets out of his chair to hug her tightly and then holds out her seat for her. She hesitates, then takes the path of least resistance by sitting down. "It's great to see you. You look absolutely gorgeous."

"Thanks," she says, grimacing uncomfortably. "How was your trip?"

She's expecting a short answer, but Dom launches into a boring, detailed day-by-day description of the vacation. By the time he finishes, Annie's nervously eaten half a basket of breadsticks.

"But it's so good to be back. It's so good to be _here_."

"That's nice," Annie finally gets in a word edgewise. "I have someth—"

Again, Dom cuts her off. "I never thought I could miss someone as much as I missed you. And I think being apart for so long has made me realize something." He grabs Annie's hand.

_Oh, no._

"Annie Edison."

 _God, no._ Please, _no._

"I love you."

###

###

"Troy and Abed in the Moooooorning."

"Welcome to our special reunion episode." Abed shoots a finger gun at the cameras.

"We have a great lineup for you today." Troy raises his special mug.

"Joining us for the first ever Troy and Abed in the Morning: Chump Roast, we have Leonard Rodriguez, here seeking vengeance for years of ridicule."

"You guys promised to give me the busty brunette's number if I sat on this stool. We're having a roast?"

"Just make fun of somebody," Troy encourages, never losing his show-biz smile.

"I can do that. Speaking of the busty brunette, have you seen her boyfriend? He's so white, he disappears every time it snows."

"Boo."

"Weak."

Leonard frowns and tries, "He's so white, he thinks extras from 90s movies have swell dance moves."

"Ha!"

"Zing!"

"Let me try one," Abed insists. Leonard shrugs. "He's so one-dimensional, he's a stock character in fanfiction about our show."

"I don't get it," Leonard shakes his head. "Can I have Busty's number now?"

Troy grimaces regrettably. "And that's all the time we have for Troy and Abed in the Morning: Chump Roast. Let's go to Garret with the weather."

"It's cold and our forecast sees Annie Edison's foot blowing in from the south. Watch your back, Dom Fink."

"Thanks, Garret. Tune in for a Community College Cage Match—Starburns vs. our defending champion, Annie Kim—after a word from our sponsor. Let’s potato chips: _Get your damn hands off my Let’s_."


	9. 3a of 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Word Count:** 5,910  
>  **Disclaimer:** These characters belong to Dan Harmon, etc., etc. I simply enjoy manipulating them.  
>  **Author's Note:** I'm running out of creative ways to talk about how awesome bethanyactually is, but she is particularly awesome. I am so grateful to have her guidance on this story. The title comes from a Four Star Mary song called "She Knows."  
>  Please forgive my gratuitous praise of _BtVS_. But it's a phenomenal show, so you all should watch it. Anyway, I think many of you will find this chapter quite satisfying. :)

_Annie Edison, I love you._

Annie grips the steering wheel and grits her teeth. Of _fucking_ course Dom dropped the L-bomb. You can’t break up with someone _right after they drop the L-bomb-_.

Can you?

She should have. She _really_ should have. Anything would have been better than her chilly silence, than the awkward and stilted conversation that peppered the rest of the dinner.

“Dammit, dammit, dammit!” Annie smacks her steering wheel and accidentally honks her horn, earning her strange looks from the passengers in the car next to her. She glares defiantly back at them. She needs to take her anger out on someone.

She _wants_ to take her anger out on Dom. She wants to insist he couldn't possibly love her. They've barely been friends for six months and have been dating even less time than that. Over the course of their four-month relationship they’ve only spent maybe a composite week together. She wants to smack him and tell him he barely knows her.

But she knows that Dom didn't do anything wrong. He's misguided, sure, and is conflating a comfortable friendship with love. But he doesn't deserve to be yelled at.

No, Annie knows that she's mostly angry with herself.

_Because she should have broken up with him._

She's been driving through the suburbs of Greendale for twenty minutes, blowing off steam and feeling generally directionless. But her gas tank is just about empty at this point, so Annie eases her car to the curb and turns off the engine.

She feels lost and out of control. Just a year ago she didn't have any drama of the dating persuasion, and now she has two guys to juggle. She's unqualified to deal with this. She needs guidance.

Ten minutes later, Annie's pulling into the parking lot of The Alley Cat.

It's a relatively quiet Sunday night at the bar. A few of the regulars are perched on their favorite stools and there's a group of Greendale students that Annie recognizes at one of the tables. But the room is mostly empty.

Britta's leaning on the counter, smiling and talking to someone that Annie quickly identifies as Duncan. "That's an absurd amount of alcohol," Britta's saying as Annie approaches. "No wonder you had to be hospitalized."

“‘Absurd’ has a very negative connotation. I prefer the term ‘heroic’."

Annie clears her throat to get their attention, and Britta scrambles to stand up straight, looking flustered. "Annie, what are you doing here?"

She plops herself down on the stool next to Duncan and announces, "Men are dumb." She looks at Duncan and adds, "No offense."

Duncan guzzles the last of his ice water before sliding the glass over the counter to Britta. "No argument here. But this sounds like it's about to turn into an episode of 'Lizzie McGuire,' so I'm going to go ahead and take my leave."

Britta rolls her eyes at him. "Are you hating on 'Lizzie McGuire' just because it's marketed to teen girls? That's a toxic attitude, mister!"

"It matches my toxic liver," Duncan calls over his shoulder as he reaches the door.

Britta snorts. "See you tomorrow."

He waves, then is gone.

Britta immediately focuses her attention on Annie. "What's wrong?"

Annie sighs and slumps forward, propping her chin up on a clenched fist. "Dom told me he loves me."

Britta frowns, studying Annie, before she retrieves two glasses from under the counter, setting them down with a _clink_ and scooping ice into them. She grabs of bottle of some green liquid that Annie guesses is margarita mix and pours them both a generous amount before adding tequila. "I'm going to go out on a limb here and assume you don't love him back." She slides one of the tumblers across the bar.

Annie grabs it and sniffs at the contents. It smells citrusy and _very_ alcoholic. She pauses, thinking of school the next day, before taking a tentative sip. The harsh burn of the liquid makes her scrunch up her nose as it slides down her throat.

"Dom's perfect, you know?" She keeps her eyes trained on the sloshing contents of her glass. "The perfect gentleman. He gives me his jacket when I'm cold—and doesn't show more regard for the jacket's well-being than he does mine. He holds doors open for me and tells me I'm pretty and has never once hesitated to tell me how he felt about me."

Britta sucks on her lower lip, watching Annie with wide, knowing eyes as she takes another sip of her drink. "He's the anti-Winger," she concludes.

Annie harrumphs. "Kinda. He's everything I ever thought I wanted, prince charming in the flesh. And he loves me, apparently. But I don't love him."

"Okaaaay…I don't see the dilemma. He's not doing it for you, so cut him loose."

Annie hangs her head, letting her hair close her off from the world. "I _wanted_ to break up with him tonight. But then he said the L-word."

"Annie."

She lifts her head again to look Britta in the eye. "What?"

"You are not obligated to spare this guy's feelings. So what if he loves you? You don't want to be dating him anymore, and your wants and feelings are as important and valid as his. Never censor yourself to make someone else happy."

Annie blinks rapidly, tears suddenly pooling in her eyes. "Britta, that's actually really good advice."

"Really?" Britta looks surprised for a moment before adding, "I mean, yeah. Consider yourself therapized."

A paying customer demands Britta's attention, so she excuses herself to tend to him. Annie silently sips at her margarita, thinking hard about Britta's guidance. Feeling compelled to act, she rifles through her purse for her phone, her head feeling light with intoxication. She’s definitely going to have to get a cab home.

When she finally finds her cell, though, the battery is dead. A sign from the universe that she should deal with Dom when she’s less tipsy.

"So," Britta slides back over to her. "You and Jeff, huh?"

"Do we really have to talk about this?"

Britta runs her finger around the rim of her glass, not meeting Annie's eyes. "I don't know. Maybe."

Annie blanches. "You don't still have…feelings for him, do you?" Britta purses her lips, looking guilty, and Annie's heart rate speeds up. "When was the last time you slept with him?"

"God, calm down. I haven't been with him since second year." Britta takes a gulp of her drink. "And I don't actively lust after him or anything."

"But?"

"But I'm human, aren't I? Dude's built. His attitude cancels it out most of the time, but during those glorious moments when he's being silent, he's totally bangable." Annie blushes, but she can't help but agree. About his…about him being attractive. God, she's been fantasizing about Jeff's naked body for _years_. "I definitely, without a doubt, will never sleep with him again, though."

Annie sighs. "I can live with that." She really doesn't have a choice either way. "Does…will it bother you?" she asks after a moment.

"What?"

"Me and Jeff. Dating."

"Oh." Britta jumps up so she can sit on the counter next to Annie, downing the rest of her drink. Dreading Britta's answer, Annie follows suit and drains her glass too, thinking she might need it. "I've resented you a lot over the years. I've been jealous and I've been mean. But you're like a sister to me, Annie. And it's obvious how stupid in love you and Jeff are. I can't promise I'm always going to be gracious about it—that it won't bother me sometimes—but I'll always be happy that you're happy."

"Aww!" Annie leans her head against Britta's thigh, and Britta—tentatively at first, then with a steadier hand—combs her fingers through Annie's hair.

"You're like a sister to me, too," Annie says, smiling. She's soothed by Britta's fiddling and, after several minutes, her eyes droop. "You should be happy, too," she says.

Britta shrugs out of the jacket she's wearing and balls it up to place under Annie's head so she can slide off the counter. "I've got a bunch of broken friends who constantly need to come to me with their problems. I'm ecstatic."

"I can't tell if you're being sarcastic."

"Shh. We close in ten minutes. I’ll drive you home after I finish cleaning up. Just rest."

Annie falls silent, listening to the _clinking_ of Britta cleaning glasses.

"Britta?"

"Yeah?"

"I really do think you'll make a good therapist someday."

"Just my luck."

"What?"

"There's no hope you're going to remember this conversation when you wake up, and there's no one here to witness you complimenting my intelligence."

"I didn't compliment your intelligence," Annie sighs sleepily. "I just think you're a good listener."

Britta's silent for a second. When she speaks, Annie can hear the smile in her voice. "I'll take what I can get."

###

Jeff huddles in his office, eager to put the first day of the semester behind him. He's been nursing a small hangover headache all day, and he still feels the echoes of embarrassment from when one of his students—an Annie in training—obnoxiously pointed out every spelling and grammatical error in his PowerPoint.

That Annie was supposed to help him polish.

When she didn’t answer any of his thirty worried texts, he had driven by her place. Her car hadn’t been in its usual spot, and he knew her shift at work had already ended. Troy and Abed couldn’t account for her whereabouts either, only mentioning that she had left in a frazzle.

So he’d gone home and poured himself a drink. And then another one. And then he’d driven past her apartment again before giving up and going to bed, a third, unfinished glass of scotch on his nightstand.

Jeff groans and takes a swig of the sports drink he’d bought from Shirley’s Sandwiches. He’s trying to go through the unread messages in his staff email, but the students are going nuts in the halls, screaming and generally making a ruckus.

There’s a loud bang in the room next to his, and his framed copy of the news report on his and Annie’s debate win comes crashing down, the glass splintering.

“Shit!” Jeff jumps out of his chair, examining the damage with a frown. “This day couldn’t get any worse.”

Dean Pelton crashes into the office then. “Well hello there, Jeffrey!”

“Uncanny,” Jeff shakes his head. “What do you want, Craig?”

The dean places a hand over his heart. “There’s no need to be cruel, Jeffrey. It’s just been _so long_ since I’ve seen or heard from you since you _didn’t invite me_ to _any_ of your winter break activities.” Jeff rolls his eyes and slumps in his chair. “I wanted to check in with my favorite faculty member.” He perches on the edge of Jeff’s desk.

“He’s peachy. Get out of my office.”

“Now, now,” the dean waggles his finger. “I’m here on business, as well. A student filed an official complaint about you.” He glances down at a half sheet of paper in his hand, “A Trisha Newcomb. She says you called her an ‘overly-analytical, mediocre product of the deficient public education system’.” Jeff grimaces. “I’m supposed to file things like this in your staff profile, but I’m willing to do my friend Jeffrey a favor and make it disappear. You scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours.” The dean places a hand on Jeff’s shoulder.

Jeff runs a hand through his hair and looks sternly at Craig. “I thought we talked about this.”

“Oh,” the dean retracts his hand. “Yes. Sorry. Old habits die hard. As hard as your pecs. Oops, okay, that’s the last of it, I swear.”

“Fine. Are we done here?”

“Someone put their crabby pants on this morning. What has you so blue, Stu?”

Jeff suppresses his need to vomit. “I’m not feeling too well, so if you could just _leave_ ,” he urges.

The dean fingers the bottle of aspirin on Jeff’s desk. “Teaching hungover again, are we? Is it because you’re still repressing your feelings for Annie?”

“ _Get out_.”

“This behavior is very unhealthy. Think about the people who love you, Jeffrey.” Jeff jumps to his feet menacingly, and Craig scrambles to move out of arm’s reach. “I only want to help you! My office is open any time you want to talk,” he says as he runs out of the room.

Jeff slams the door behind him. He sits back down at his desk, wakes up his computer, and reads through three emails before he realizes he can’t remember a single fucking thing they said.

The dean’s words are bouncing around in the forefront of his mind. Unhealthy behavior and taking the people that care about him into consideration and all that.

“Goddammit,” he says and glances down at his watch. Annie will have just gotten home from her genetics lab. (They had traded schedules as soon as they’d been finalized.)

He sits locked in his chair a second longer. Then he switches off his computer, shoves his phone in his pocket, and takes off jogging for his car.

He gets to her apartment building in just under fifteen minutes.

She looks confused to find him there when she opens the door. There’s an almost comical moment of realization wherein she slaps her palm against her forehead and she shouldn’t be allowed to look so cute when he’s _mad at her_. It drains all the fight from him.

“Your PowerPoint! Oh, Jeff, I’m so sorry.”

But he’s not so charmed as to not be hurt. He crosses his arms over his chest and leans against the doorjamb. “Where were you last night?”

Annie looks up at him with her big eyes and tugs on his hand till he drops his defensive stance and lets her pull him inside. “It’s kind of a long story, and I’m waiting for an important email. Can I get you anything to drink?”

“I’m good.” He holds up the sports drink as evidence. Annie cocks a knowing eyebrow but doesn’t say anything as she leads him to her room.

She leaves the door cracked behind them and sits down at her desk.

Jeff bounces tensely on the edge of her bed.

After refreshing her inbox, she turns to him. “Dom got back last night.”

He feels a prickle of fear in the depths of his stomach. “Oh.”

“I was…well, he’d been eager to see me, and I had some things I wanted to talk to him about.”

Jeff fiddles with the cap of his drink, his gaze fixed intently on the black plastic. “What kinds of things?”

Her small, soft hand stills his fidgeting. “Jeff, will you look at me?”

He does. She’s smiling softly, her eyebrows raised ever-so-slightly in question. “I think Dom is a decent person, but I don’t want to date him anymore.”

Jeff tries not to look so obviously relieved, but he would start crying if he didn’t have such a rigid hold on his emotions. “So you, uh…?” he doesn’t know how to ask what he wants to ask.

Annie bites her lip and moves her hand. “Not _exactly_.” Jeff cocks his head, a fresh wave of panic sending a chill down his spine. “It’s complicated. He t—” Her laptop pings. “Hold that thought.” She pivots to face her computer.

“So, what constitutes an important email?” he asks when the silence starts to make him jitter.

“Those ungrateful sacks of unfinished degrees and parental issues!”

“What?”

“I can’t believe them. Abed!” Annie hollers.

“Annie, what’s going on?”

She huffs in annoyance before turning back to face him. “I sent a poll to the student body regarding fundraising ideas for the student showcase. I didn’t want to force them to do something they would be uncomfortable with because _I’m_ a _considerate_ person. So I turned to the democratic process,” she raves, her face turning red. “The poll closed an hour ago, and the results just came back.”

“And the problem is…?” Jeff prompts.

Abed appears then, pushing Annie’s door open. “You rang? Shrilly, I might add.”

“I thought I told you _not_ to include a write-in option on that poll I asked you to make in November!”

“You did,” Abed confirms.

“Then how were people able to _write in suggestions_?”

“I read over your options. Selling ads, Annie? There’s no room for hijinks in ad sales.”

“I know!”

Jeff intervenes, catching on. “What did they write in?”

Annie growls at no one in particular and thrusts her laptop in Jeff’s direction. “See for yourself.”

“Huh.” Jeff tries not to give away the prickle of excitement he feels lest he earn some of Annie’s ire. He tries for levity. “At least it’s not South Park.”

She glares at him as he passes the laptop to Abed.

“Excuse me,” Abed says after a moment. “I need to call Troy at work immediately.” He carries Annie’s laptop off with him, who crosses her arms and fumes.

Jeff pokes her in the shoulder. “C’mon. Paintball is fun.”

“You did see the part where our peers are willing to pay _money_ to play the Save Greendale committee versus _all_ of them, right? That doesn’t bother you?”

Jeff shrugs. “Sounds like a challenge. And who is Annie Edison if not a woman up for a challenge?”

She harrumphs. “We can’t very well muck up the campus with a game of paintball during the semester. We’d never get it clean in time for the showcase.”

“We could find another location,” he suggests. She frowns, but he can practically see her brain working out possible options. “The student body has spoken, Annie. The democratic process doesn’t always work the way we want it to, but the system falls apart entirely when we don’t listen to the people.”

She rolls her eyes. “Save the Winger speech. I’ll talk to Dean Pelton about possible locations.”

He grins in triumph and the anger trickles out of her eyes until she’s grinning back.

It takes him a moment to remember why he came over in the first place, but he averts his gaze when he does. “You were telling me what happened with Dom,” he reminds her.

“Oh, right.” Annie’s eyes flit down to her hands picking imaginary lint off her sweater. “I just—”

Abed pops back up in the doorway with her laptop. “Your phone’s been vibrating like crazy.” He tosses it to her, sets her laptop on the edge of her desk, and leaves.

She makes a face when she sees who’s calling, and then straightens her shoulders with determination. “Hello?” Annie picks up, giving Jeff an apologetic wince. She listens to the person on the other line for a moment before responding. “I didn’t have my phone with me…I was busy…why are you being like this?” Jeff shifts uncomfortably at her tone, glancing toward the door and wondering if he should leave. “Is this because I didn’t say _you know what_ back?” she whispers into the speaker on her cell.

 _I can go if you want_ , Jeff mouths.

Annie shakes her head, holding up a finger. “I agree that we should talk. Where do you want to meet?” A pause. “That’s fine…mm-hmm…I’ll see you in an hour.” She stabs her phone’s end-call button and stands. “I’m so sorry to be blowing you off again, Jeff, but this is important. Can I come by your place tomorrow morning? I’ll explain everything.”

He stands too, feeling emotional whiplash. “Uh, yeah, sure. Eightish?”

“That’s perfect.” She hops up to wrap her arms around his neck in a quick hug—kissing him on the cheek—before she rushes out of the room in a hurry.

###

Annie makes it to Dom’s good-luck clearing before he does. The view of the setting sun is beautiful, but the temperature is rapidly falling in the fading light. She tugs her coat more tightly around her and shivers in the breeze.

Guilt nags at the back of her mind. She doesn’t want to spoil this place for Dom.

On the other hand, he did cut her off every time she tried to break up with him before. So he’ll just have to deal. The memory will fade eventually, anyway.

Fueled by nervous energy, Annie paces large, sweeping circles in the snow. The crunch of her boots is comforting in the otherwise eerie silence.

“Hey,” Dom calls out to her, jogging up to where she freezes in her tracks. “Sorry I’m late.”

“That’s okay.”

He goes in for a hug, but Annie pulls back. “What’s wrong?”

She fiddles with the zipper on her coat. “We need to talk.”

“You sound so serious.” He’s grinning like it’s a joke. “But, like I mentioned, I have really good news. Can I go first?”

Annie scoffs. She was going to break it off gently, but—between his tenacious selfishness and the cold—she’s irritable and fed up. “No. You really can’t.” He finally gets that she didn’t drive all this way for a cozy nighttime rendezvous. The grin slips right off his face. “I want to break up,” she says. And then, with more authority, “I’m breaking up with you.” She takes his class ring out of her coat pocket and thrusts it at him.

“Wait, what? Is it because I told you I love you? I know it was a little soon, and it’s really okay if you don’t feel the same way. I mean, it hurt a little when you didn't say it back, but we don’t have to break up because of it.”

Annie resists the urge to bare her teeth at him. “It has nothing to do with how you feel. It has _everything_ to do with what I _don’t_ feel. I don’t love you, and I don’t want to date you.”

Dom gapes for a moment before his face clouds with anger. “It’s because of that dude from your school isn’t it? Josh or whatever.”

“I don’t owe you an explanation,” Annie says coolly.

“It is,” Dom sticks his finger in her face. “I knew there was something going on between you two that you weren’t telling me.”

Annie swats his finger away. “Yeah, you’re clearly cut out for detective work,” she jabs dryly. “Top-notch observation skills.”

“Fuck you, Annie. Clearly I am because Dr. Floyd offered me his research assistant position. That's what I wanted to tell you. To celebrate with you.”

This draws Annie up short. She feels a lot of things at once—regret, anger, superiority, mirth, a strange sense of closure—and almost blurts out that she was offered the position a month ago. She wants to rub it in his face that he’s probably not even Dr. Floyd’s _second_ choice, given the timeline.

But you know what? She’s a bigger person than that.

“Congratulations,” she says. And then she walks away, leaving Dom behind in the dark.

###

Not drinking is harder than it should be.

Jeff gets home from Annie’s apartment and tries to busy himself with chores instead of immediately guzzling a glass of scotch to soothe his nerves. He does a load of laundry. He gathers everything he needs for tomorrow’s classes and packs his briefcase. He makes himself dinner and scrubs down his kitchen counters.

But through it all he’s practically aching to take a drink. To numb his thoughts the easy way.

He’s in the middle of an anxiety-fueled set of pushups when there’s a knock at the door. His heart surges—maybe she got back from her errand sooner than expected—and he jumps up to look through the peep hole.

Abed is the one standing in the hall, a messenger bag slung across his chest, stoic as ever and clutching a six pack of beer in either hand.

“Abed. What are you doing here?” Jeff asks as soon as he gets the door open.

“We’re standing at the crossroads of change, Jeff.” Abed pushes his way inside, setting the beer on Jeff's counter and unwinding the scarf around his neck. “Annie’s most assuredly ending things with Dom right now, and you’re bound to be at your most vulnerable, second-guessing the emotional path on which you are about to embark.”

Jeff sighs and closes the door behind him. “That doesn’t even begin to answer my question.”

“I’m here to make sure you don’t screw it up,” Abed clarifies with authority. “To keep you from talking yourself out of the inevitable. And to consume an inadvisable amount of alcohol before a school night.”

“I was actually trying to—”

Abed cuts him off. “Can you just trust me on this? Have I ever led you astray?”

“Allow me to answer that absurd question with a glare,” Jeff says.

“You can’t sarcasm your way out of this, Jeff,” he says, rifling through Jeff’s kitchen drawers and holding up a bottle opener triumphantly. “Annie is very important to both of us, so whether you accept it or not, I’m spending the night here.”

He pops the lid off two bottles and holds one out to Jeff, who stares at the bottle as if it's the barrel of a gun.

What the hell. Abed's practically begging him to do this, to relax. He can always start sobriety tomorrow. Cheap beer only ever gets him a little buzzed. Plus, Abed's here to make sure he doesn't push it.

He takes the beer Abed is offering.

Abed clinks his bottle against Jeff's and they both knock some of the liquid back before Abed flings himself down on the couch.

"How're the dumbbells treating you?"

Jeff rolls his eyes as he sits down on the opposite end of the sofa. "What’s going on with you?"

"I need you to be more intoxicated before we talk about Annie or we'll never get anywhere. Till then I figured we could talk about things you like.” He pauses and cocks his head. “Your muscle tone is looking streets ahead."

"Holy crap. I will actually pay you to make a movie reference right now."

“Cool. That wasn’t working for me either.”

“No shit. We’ve been friends for six years, and you’ve never tried to carry on a conversation about things that interest me. You certainly don’t have to start now.”

“First of all, that’s because most of your interests are shallow or stupid.” Abed takes a sip of his beer and Jeff takes a longer gulp. “But I thought discussing them would ease you into opening up.”

“I thought that’s why you brought alcohol.”

“You’re a guarded man, Jeff. I’m just trying to make this as easy for you as possible.”

God, is he so unapproachable that his friends—his _family_ —can’t even talk to him without multiple layers of strategy?

“This is great,” he tries to affect breeziness. “Easy-peasy.”

Abed levels him with a painfully shrewd stare that makes Jeff feel like glass, like he’s totally transparent. “Do you want to know what you’ve been thinking since you stopped by our apartment looking for Annie last night?”

“Not particularly.”

“You're paranoid that you've been misreading the signs."

 _Here we go_ , Jeff thinks, taking another swig of beer.

"You've been thinking maybe there's a reason Annie hasn't ended things with Dom yet, and you fear the reason is that she doesn't want to be with you despite overwhelming evidence to the contrary. This isn't easy for you. Not with years of avoidance and denial and insecurities to lend credence to your fears."

"I've already come to terms with my feelings for Annie. I'm not avoiding or denying anything."

"Aren't you?"

"No, I'm not. And you're not going to talk in circles till I come to some emotional revelation. I was a lawyer, remember. I know every variation of that trick. I've _used_ every variation of that trick."

"So you're saying I'm wrong. You're not worried at all that Annie doesn't feel the same way as you."

"I'm saying there's really no reason for you to be here because everything's fine." Jeff means to look stern when he glances over to meet Abed's knowing stare, but he falters.

It probably doesn't help his case that he then diverts his gaze and guzzles the rest of his beer.

Abed raises an eyebrow.

"Shut up," Jeff grumbles, getting up to toss the empty bottle. He debates grabbing another one, but decides that, no, it's time to handle this like an adult. "Here's the thing," he says as he sits back down. "I don't know how to be in a relationship. I've never had one that's mattered to me before. So, you're wrong. I'm _not_ worried that she doesn't feel the same. I’m worried about what comes as a result of that. I'm worried about sleepovers and clearing a drawer for her stuff. I'm worried about picking up orange juice and lozenges when she's sick. I'm worried about Sunday-morning breakfasts and Friday date nights and weekend trips and _actively being in love_. Because it's scary. And I could screw it all up _so easily_."

Abed snorts. "That's dumb."

"I know." Jeff grabs for his phone and starts spinning it in his hands.

"You do realize you spent the better part of break essentially dating Annie, right?"

"Huh?"

"You and Annie. All break. You texted nonstop. You found every excuse you could to spend the day together. She told me you brought her food on her break at work. You spent Christmas together. That's all there is to dating, Jeff. It's not as complicated as you're making it out to be."

"Huh." He thinks about it. Maybe. "But—"

Abed cuts him off. "You have an opportunity here, an opportunity to make every moment of buildup matter. Your relationship could be like _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ or it could be like _Lost_."

"Of course." He’s starting to regret the decision not to have a second beer. "I assume you're going to elaborate," he says tiredly.

" _Buffy_ is a masterpiece. Every detail builds upon itself till you get to the satisfying resolution. It's not perfect. The 1990s CGI alone is enough to make you want to give up on it entirely. But you stick with it because there's something there, and the show rewards you in kind. There's payoff."

"And _Lost_?"

" _Lost_ is full of empty promise. It raises all these interesting questions, but leaves you hanging more often than not. It starts out with so much. But by the end you have no closure, no satisfaction. All those moments build to nothing. You and Annie are better than that. You deserve to have payoff for the years of buildup. You deserve to be _Buffy_."

Strained metaphor aside, Jeff sees the merit to Abed's argument. If he walks away now…god he doesn't even want to think about all the ways the regret would destroy him.

"I— _fuck_. It's still terrifying. I'm terrified, Abed."

He nods thoughtfully. "You're scared because this is important, because Annie's worth all the emotional turmoil."

"You don't think I'm going to hurt her or drive the group apart or anything?"

"I think you should give yourself more credit than that."

Jeff is silent for a while. "I'll try," he says finally. "Thanks, buddy."

Abed nods and gets up, slinging his bag over his shoulder and grabbing his coat. "Well, that was easier than I expected it would be. If you don't mind, I'm going to go surprise Rachel at work."

"Oh, yeah, of course." Jeff walks him to the door. "See you tomorrow."

"You bet."

Abed's about to turn and leave when Jeff stops him with a hug that catches both of them off guard. It takes Abed several moments to respond, but he reaches up to pat Jeff's back.

When they break apart, Jeff is flustered, but Abed just nods at him before turning and trotting off down the hall.

###

Annie can't seem to wipe the stupid grin off her face. Not that she wants to, really, but her cheeks are starting to pinch painfully. And the people she passes on her way to Jeff's floor all look at her like she might be a little dangerous, unhinged.

She just feels so free.

Her grin only widens when Jeff wrenches his door open mere seconds after she knocks. "Hi," she greets with a chirp.

"Hi," he says back, smiling down at her. He doesn't move from the doorway or invite her in, so she raises her eyebrows questioningly. "You haven't happened to eat breakfast yet, have you?"

Annie cocks her head at the strange question. "No. I was going to grab—"

He cuts her off mid-sentence. "Good. Uh, come on in."

She's about to ask him if he's on drugs or something, but the question catches in her throat when she sees what he's prepared for her.

Jeff's kitchen table is set beautifully. There's a thick, forest-green tablecloth draped over the top. Three daisies droop out of a tall glass in the center, and tiny, lit tealights rest on either side. Steaming omelets sit on both plates.

"Wow," Annie marvels, walking around the table to check out the full effect. "This smells amazing. Is it all for me?"

"Well, I plan to eat one of the omelets," Jeff jokes with a smirk. He holds out a chair for her and Annie falls into it, dumbfounded. "You have excellent timing actually. I just finished."

"Why?"

He chuckles, looking down at his plate almost bashfully. "I need you to answer a question for me first, okay?"

"Okay."

"Did you break up with Dom?"

Something about the question makes her stomach bottom out and her heart flutter. "Yes. That's why I had to go last night."

He nods like he already knows this, still staring down at his breakfast intently, and takes a deep breath, clearly ramping up to something. "Then consider this my grand romantic gesture." He looks up at her, and Annie feels her heart trying to race itself right out of her chest. "I know it's late and a little lame, but I'd like this to be the beginning of something. I'd like this to be the first of many omelets I make for you. And when you get tired of that, I can make other egg dishes: scrambled eggs, sunny-side-up, you name it." She laughs breathlessly and Jeff's responding smile makes her feel lightheaded. "I'd like to wake up next to you, and I'd even like to smell your morning breath." Annie gasps in offense, but he's on a roll now. "I'd like to have a favorite jogging trail and race you to see who's going to pay for coffee every morning. I'd like to brush our teeth together at night and I'd like to be disgusted when I find clumps of your hair in the shower drain. I'd like to have a DVR full of shows that we want to watch together. I'd like to buy you silly greeting cards on our anniversary.” He pauses, his eyes searching her face. “As long as that’s what you want. Your happiness is important to me."

He gets out of his chair and walks over to her side of the table. Annie turns in her seat to face him, and Jeff gets down on both his knees in front of her. She tries not to burst into tears.

"So, what I guess I'm really trying to say is," he takes a deep breath, hesitating one last time, "I love you, Annie."


	10. 3b of 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Word Count:** 9,230  
>  **Disclaimer:** These characters belong to Dan Harmon, etc., etc. I simply enjoy manipulating them.  
>  **Author's Note:** Thank you, bethanyactually, for being a dedicated, careful, and overall wonderful human being. The title comes from a Four Star Mary song called "She Knows." 
> 
> Sorry for the wait. Please note the rating change, and I hope you find this worth the anticipation. ;)

"I love you, Annie."

It's liberating, finally saying the words out loud. To her. His skin is buzzing and his entire body is quivering with adrenaline.

And she's smiling like she's so proud of him—like she loves him back. She reaches out to cup his cheek in her soft, smooth palm, to rub her thumb gently along his temple.

He raises his eyebrows, silently asking for her to say something—anything—in response.

Annie ducks her head, sheepish. "I know," she says, finally.

"Come again?"

She looks back up at him, grinning guiltily. "I know. Britta told me a while ago."

Jeff gapes, floundering for something to say.

"Don't be mad at her," Annie pleads. "Things were so tense between us when she told me. I think she just wanted some peace in the group."

"I—" Nope, he's got nothing. "When?"

Thankfully, Annie understands despite the brevity of his question. "The night of the disastrous double date." She winces apologetically.

Jeff stands, his mind reaching back. Britta hadn't wasted any time at all. "Well then. I guess that's what I get for telling Britta a secret." Damn her for stealing his thunder. "Though she did deserve to know about Borchert's lab and everything."

Annie cocks her head delicately. "What about Borchert's lab?"

Jeff's eyebrows draw together in confusion. "I mean, I owed her an explanation, you know? For the stupid engagement and my realizing I was in love with you.”

He can practically hear the _click_ in Annie’s brain as she puts it together, though he figured if Britta had blabbed that she’d’ve blabbed everything.

Apparently not.

“You…the door?” Annie asks.

“It was you,” Jeff confirms. “Blast of passion and all that.” He rubs at the back of his neck, suddenly nervous under her intense stare. The flared nostrils aren’t helping.

Annie jumps to her feet. “You’ve _known_ you had feelings for me since _last May_!?” Jeff takes a few cautionary steps back, nodding. “So you mean to tell me,” she yells, “that we could have been snuggling and kissing and,” she gasps, “ _having sex_ …EIGHT months ago!?” Her voice, already shrill, rises an octave when she hits the ‘eight.’

“I guess technically, but I—”

Annie starts screaming. Like, a-monkey-stole-all-my-pens-but-I-suspect-one-of-my-closest-friends screaming. Jeff's wondering if he should fear for his life when Annie suddenly charges full tilt at him.

“What the—” Jeff starts, but she knocks the wind out of him as she tackles him over the back of his couch. She lands on top of him, her elbow digging into his chest, and his head knocks against the armrest.

But he doesn’t even have time to feel the pain. She rights herself on top of him and, a second later, is kissing him, all soft lips and aggressive intentions.

All of her anger is being channeled into the kiss and he’s struggling to keep up and, _fuck_ , she catches his lower lip between her teeth and tugs.

The beginnings of a moan rumble in the back of his throat. “ _Annie_.” Her hands grip at his chest through his button-down shirt, her nails scraping roughly through the fabric.

One of his arms is pinned against the couch underneath him, but he wraps the other one all the way around her waist and pulls her closer. It earns him a hum of approval and the exploration of Annie’s tongue.

As he returns her curiosity in kind, savoring the taste of her strawberry lip balm on his tongue, Jeff rubs his palm against her back. He locates the hem of her adorably fuzzy and tantalizingly tight sweater and hikes it up a few inches, the pads of his fingers feeling the bare expanse of her lower back for the first time. It’s warm and smooth and he wants to nip at the skin there.

Annie squirms against his roaming fingers, which have moved to tease the upwards curve just under the waist of her jeans, and giggles against his mouth.

“Jeff,” she whines, pulling away only far enough to look him in the eye. “That tickles, and I’m trying to be angry at you.”

He smirks. “Oh, I’m sure that’ll come again. Just give it time.” She huffs, and he kisses the tip of her nose on impulse. She gets this starry-eyed look that makes him wish he could pull her even closer. His fingers tighten possessively and she wriggles again. “So, you’re ticklish here, huh?” He stops putting so much pressure on the expanse of skin and instead lets his fingers trail, feather-light, back down the sensitive arch of her lower back.

Annie mewls softly and grinds down on him.

Every nerve in his body—but especially those in a certain appendage—seems to fire endorphins at his brain at once.

“Shit, Annie,” he gasps as she trails kisses and pinching, little bites along his jaw and then down his neck. “I wanna—” He tries to wrench his arm free, to no avail. “Bedroom?”

She perks up, hopping off him at once.

He groans as he heaves himself up, feeling the prickles of circulation returning to his arm.

“Are you okay?” she asks, biting her lower lip. It's bright red from their making out, and he marvels at that for a moment before answering.

“I was tackled onto a hard piece of furniture by five feet of rage, so I’d say I’m doing pretty well, all things considered.”

She rolls her eyes, unsympathetic. “We could have had a slow, gentle first time at the beginning of summer but _somebody_ was too busy being a knucklehead.”

He takes a few strides forward and looms over her before tugging her flush against him. She whimpers, her eyes wide and dusky with lust.

“I guess we’ll have to settle for a fast and rough first time.”

Annie smirks, grabbing both his hands and tugging him to his bedroom, walking backward like she already owns the place.

As soon as they've navigated into the room, Jeff leans down to pick up where they left off. She's so tiny; kissing her is going to give him a bad back. He may have to start picking her up more.

He settles on the edge of his bed to alleviate the strain, easing himself down so as to not mess with their rhythm too much. To his unending glee, Annie crawls over him, her knees settling on either side of his hips. Jeff runs his palms over her jean-clad thighs, up her sides, and then wraps both his arms around her, one of his hands sliding up her spine to cup the back of her head.

Annie's grips the collar of his shirt as she finds her balance and then her fingers dance to the first fastened button. She undoes it, and then another, and then another. Her cool fingertips tease the skin where his neck flows into his sternum.

It tickles a little, and he half-snorts, half-laughs into their kiss, which only makes her smile in response. She smooths her palms around either side of his neck, teasing the point where his hairline ends.

After a moment of blissful, mind-boggling making out, Annie pulls away.

Jeff's protest dies on his lips as she fingers the hem of her sweater in a split-second of uncertainty before pulling it over her head.

He has to lean away a little to get a better look at her. Her hair's disheveled and falls in messy, silky waves to her ribs. She's wearing this simple, cute blue bra with tiny black heart-shaped polka-dots all over it, and, _fuck fuck fuck_ , would it be inappropriate for him to fall forward and bury his face in her cleavage?

Not diving in— _hah_ —quite that fast, Jeff decides to instead run his lips across her collarbone. Annie lets her head fall back, giving him access, and Jeff nips at the skin of her neck before kissing his way down to the tops of her breasts. He skims his nose along the satiny skin, inhaling deep breath after deep breath of her fruity-smelling body wash.

Her head falls lazily forward again, and her fingers move to finish their work on his shirt. She gets all the buttons undone that she can reach and then tries to tug the tails of the shirt out from his slacks with a grumpy groan of frustration. "I should be both giving and receiving of nudity here."

He laughs against her shoulder, where he's nosing the strap of her bra aside, because honestly. How can someone be so cute and sexy at the same time?

Jeff shrugs out of the shirt without pitching her off his lap and holds his arms out, presenting himself to her. "Happy?"

"Mmmhmmmmm," she drawls, her eyelashes fluttering. She grips his shoulders in both her hands, squeezing, before tracing her fingers down along the curves of muscle on his chest. She leaves pimpled flesh in her wake, and he closes his eyes and hums at the feeling.

She pushes him flat on his back when he least expects it, and he falls into the plush of his mattress without resistance. He's reveling in the feeling of her draped over him—skin to skin after _six years_ of tension—when she changes the whole game by teasing her tongue against one of his nipples.

" _Shit_ ," Jeff's pelvis jerks up in response. Annie giggles with delight and pinches the nub between her teeth.

Suddenly he's hyperaware of how tight and unnecessary his pants are.

He rolls them over, kissing Annie deeply before sitting up and undoing the clasp of the offending pants.

Following suit, Annie worms her way out of her jeans. She's got these scant black panties on, blue hearts peppered across the material, that are fancy enough to make him think she was hopeful something like this would happen. He grins down at her as she backs herself up onto the center of the mattress, appreciating the way the softness of her toned stomach flows into her hips which flow into her tantalizing legs.

And she's eyeing him back, her eyes trailing down his body in a way that makes him feel justified for the years of rigorous workouts.

He crawls over her. She's never seemed smaller to him than in this moment, peering up at him with darkened eyes and a happy smile that makes him wish for a photographic memory. "I love you," he says again because he can and because he feels the emotion in every corner of his body. It's as physically present as the blood in his veins.

Her eyes soften a little and she drags smooth fingertips over his cheekbone. "I love you, too."

Jeff lowers himself, groaning at how warm and incredibly soft she is, and kisses her. He shifts his weight so he can trail a finger along her cleavage and search for the clasp on her bra.

Annie laughs at him after several seconds without success. "It's in the back," she informs him and then—in an impressively quick maneuver—leans forward and undoes it before falling against the mattress again.

She lets Jeff peel it away from her skin, so he does it slowly to savor the moment. Call him sentimental, but he's been waiting for this since his annoying, pretty, crazy friend Annie decided to loosen up by ambushing him with a kiss during a debate competition.

And, _damn_ , he's expended a lot of brainpower thinking about what her breasts look like, but nothing's prepared him for being faced with real, _touchable_ Annie.

His eyes widen and he knows that he's ogling, but Annie doesn't seem to mind. She smirks up at him, her fingers threaded in his hair, and—when she's fed up with his inaction—she tugs him down for more kisses.

Jeff indulges in the comforting rhythm of Annie's lips moving against his for a moment before he starts making his way down her body. He leaves breathless, open-mouthed kisses along her neck, her clavicle, and the stretch of soft skin situated between her breasts till he really can't restrain himself anymore. He kisses up the hill of one only to move down and back up the other. He kisses spirals around the sensitive flesh.

Annie writhes under him the whole time, letting him know what really gets her worked up with soft huffs and plenty of hip jerking.

He could actually spend the rest of the day in this very position, but, eventually, Annie pushes him down further, insisting on a new activity. He obliges, placing simple pecks in a straight line down her stomach to the band of her underwear.

She’s quivering under him, and he indulges himself in a nip at her hip bone, which makes her moan loudly. "Today, Jeff," she pleads.

He laughs at that. "So this is okay?" he asks, hooking a finger under the elastic and tugging a little.

"God, yes."

With her permission, he pulls the last of Annie's clothing off and is rewarded with the gorgeous picture of her sprawled, nude, on his bed.

Yes, a photographic memory would be nice.

He slides himself between her thighs and pulls her hips forward. She gasps and their eyes meet for a moment before he leans in to drag his tongue over her.

"Mmm," she moans her approval and her fingers find their way back into his hair. Her grip gets tighter, tugging at his roots, when he moves his tongue a certain way or flicks it against her clit. He's going to enjoy finding all the buttons he can push to make her come undone.

And come undone she does. He hasn't even been working for long before she's pulling on his hair in earnest. "Jeeeeff." Her muscles jerk, and his name is drawn from her lips in a reverberating hum. And then she relaxes.

He places a final kiss over her before pulling back and wiping his face on the back of his hand. He deftly retrieves a condom from his nightstand as he discards his boxer briefs.

Annie's chuckling happily as he prepares himself—no doubt riding the aftershocks of her orgasm—looking like a flushed, satisfied goddess. The morning sun is streaming into the room at just the right angle to make her strawberries-and-cream skin glow.

When he kneels in between her thighs, she wraps her hand around him and Jeff’s hips jerk in response. He stills her building pumps after a moment, though. "I'm feeling an urgent need to be inside you," he says.

"Oh," her eyelids flutter cutely and she lays back.

Jeff lines himself up and is about to push in when she whines with displeasure. "What's wrong?" He has to crane his neck to look down at her face. She's so short that the top of her head is only in line with his chin.

"I mean, this position _could_ be a lot of fun," Annie demonstrates her point by leaning up and easily taking one of his nipples into her mouth. Jeff moans and he feels another surge of _urgency_. "But I've always envisioned our first time being more…face-to-face."

"Done a lot of envisioning, have you?"

Annie rolls her eyes. "Like you haven't."

He doesn’t argue. "Well, it's not my fault that you're freakishly short."

"I'm average! If anything you're freaki—" She stops herself and takes a deep breath. "No matter. I have an idea. Lie down on your back."

Intrigued, Jeff does as he's told.

Annie fumbles on top of him, her long hair tickling his face.

“A little help here,” she says after a second of struggle.

Jeff waggles his eyebrows and guides himself into her as she eases down to straddle his hips.

They both emit loud moans.

And, _hot molten lava_ , Annie Edison nude and on top of him is the sexiest thing he’s ever seen. She smirks down at him—looking pretty pleased with herself—then flips her hair over her shoulder, digs her nails into his abdomen, and starts moving.

“Fuck, Annie,” Jeff pants.

“I was right,” she laughs with bated breath, “this is much better.”

“Uh-huh.”

Jeff takes several more moments to just watch Annie before he decides to do his share of the work and thrusts up.

They move together, experimenting with speed and roughness. When he’s getting close—and she’s slowing down from exertion—Jeff uses the pad of his thumb to circle her clit.

“Oh, yes,” Annie tosses her hair back and, yeah, he’s about to be a goner. “Again please.”

“Yes, milady,” Jeff manages to groan, twisting the sensitive nub between his thumb and forefinger. She tightens around him in a rush of wetness and a few beats later he follows her, wading into a flood of endorphins.

She slumps on top of him for a moment before sliding off and collapsing next to him. He puts his arm around her and pulls her into his side. Annie nuzzles her head into his chest with a contented sigh.

He flexes his arm around her, rubbing her arm in lazy strokes. “That was fucking amazing.”

“May,” Annie shakes her head and her hair tickles at his chin. “We could have been doing this since _May_.”

He kisses the top of her head, rolling his eyes and pulling away to dispose of the condom and clean himself off. Once she’s settled back against him, they fall silent for some time and bask in some serious afterglow. Though it's morning, Jeff feels a sleepiness that comes from total satisfaction.

Suddenly, Annie bolts upright. “What time is it?”

Jeff checks his watch. “A quarter to nine.”

“We have classes in 45 minutes! Crap, crap, crap.”

They both scramble out of bed. Annie races to the bathroom, and Jeff redresses before fiddling with his hair in the mirror. She comes back into the room after a moment, gathering her clothes and hurriedly tugging them back on.

"How do I look?" she asks, her teeth worrying at her lower lip as she combs through her hair with her fingers. "I'm going for a 'Slept through My Alarm' kind of disheveled and not 'I Just Had Sex'." He gives her a once-over, but the sweater really is quite tight and has an enticing V-neck, so he gets a little distracted. " _Jeff_ ," Annie whines. "Focus."

"I am."

She crosses her arms over her chest, but that just enhances the effect. Jeff smirks.

"You're no help," she huffs.

She turns to charge out of the room, but Jeff catches her wrist and spins her into a kiss. "You look great," he assures. "And we're not going to be late. If anything, we'll have time to spare."

She kisses him once more before rushing into the living room. "I like to get to my classes fifteen minutes early. I need time to prepare or else I _feel_ late. And we never ate breakfast. Oh, god."

"Annie, relax." Jeff says as he blows out the candles on the table. He'll have to clean up the rest when he gets home. "You shouldn't drive all worked up." He grabs them both a granola bar out of his pantry and tosses her one.

She nods, taking a few deep breaths as she shrugs into her coat and slings her backpack onto her shoulder. He retrieves his briefcase, puts on his own coat, and grabs his keys.

They hold hands in the elevator, and Jeff's mind reels. So much happened in the last hour, it seems surreal.

They part in the lobby of his building with a kiss and a promise of "see you soon." (He gets to kiss her whenever he wants. _Surreal_.)

Jeff takes the 15 minute ride in silence, his mind cataloguing the influx of sensory input. Like the taste of her skin, the way she smells especially and potently _Annie_ at the soft hollow right under her ear, the raspy moan she'd made when they fit together for the first time.

And then he has to spend some time actively thinking about things that turn him off because he can't very well show up to teach class with an erection.

She’s right behind him the whole time, and she eases her car into the spot next to him when they get to Greendale.

"I'll see you at the committee meeting at 2:30, right?" She's talking as soon as they exit their cars.

"I'll be there," he confirms.

After dazzling him with a smile and bouncing up on her tip-toes to give him a kiss, she takes off running for her class.

Even though it might make him a few minutes late, he stays to watch till she disappears.

###

She keeps getting distracted.

As her professors ramble on about assignments and expectations for the semester, Annie's mind wanders to Jeff's kitchen…his bedroom. She remembers the way he looked at her, and it makes her tingle in all the right places. She finds herself doodling what she can remember of his speech in fancy script in her notebook.

And, for the first time in maybe her entire life, Annie Edison doesn’t ask a single question during her classes because she has more important things to occupy her mind, thank you very much.

Her head is still so abuzz with all the _new_ and _exciting_ and _naked Jeff_ , that she almost doesn’t notice real Jeff waiting for her on the steps of the library.

“Hey,” he jumps to his feet when he sees her, all smiles and lingering looks. (She’ll have to remember that he _really_ likes this sweater.) “How was class?”

“Yeah,” she nods. He cocks his head at her, smirking. “Sorry, I’ve been a little preoccupied today.”

Jeff waggles his eyebrows and pulls her to him. She puts up exactly zero resistance. “Any reason in particular?”

“One or two come to mind,” she says breathlessly.

“Hey, everybody!” Leonard shouts. “Winger’s got a giiiiirlfriend!”

“Shut up, Leonard,” Jeff retorts, still holding Annie tightly to him. “I can hear your bones rattle when you walk.”

Leonard walks away, grumbling about missed opportunities and vengeance.

Annie shakes her head at Jeff but can’t keep the smile off her face. “We should go inside.”

They hold hands for the short walk up the front steps to the study room door, and then break apart to go to their respective seats.

Abed is the only one already in the room, and he pumps his fist when he sees them together. "Joss Whedon would be proud."

“Huh?”

Jeff rolls his eyes. "That was Abed-speak for 'I'm happy for you guys'."

Abed nods, confirming this.

Britta and Duncan walk into the room together then, in the middle of a conversation. “I’ve devised the perfect system of negative reinforcement, you see," Duncan's saying. "Whenever someone asks a question, I prattle on so as to discourage meaningful discussion.”

“Ah, yes, classic conditioning," Britta nods thoughtfully as she sits down in her regular chair. Duncan takes his place next to Jeff.

Troy is the next to arrive, and he takes a deep breath as soon as he's in the door. "Ah," he sighs contentedly, "the study room smell. One part musty books, two parts pot, and two parts old hot dog water." He shimmies to his old seat and makes a show of settling in before engaging Abed in their handshake.

"Not that it isn't amazing to have you back," Annie says, "but what are you doing here? I thought you were working at Hawthorne Wipes."

"I still do. But since I'm taking Pierce's place, they said I need to get a feel for what he did there. And then they sent me here."

"Nice," Abed flashes a thumbs-up.

"Plus, I don't know anything about shares or corporate responsibility or pension. I've overheard, like, eight different people talk about getting their ducks in a row before they settle a deal. Clearly they’re important to successfully selling wipes, but no one will tell me where we keep them. So I'm gonna get a business degree."

"I’m sure you’ll learn all about where they keep the ducks in Business 101,” Jeff assures him.

Annie tries to kick him under the table—aiming toward the center of the table so as to connect with Jeff’s outstretched legs—but she nails Professor Duncan’s foot. He gives her a funny look, and Annie flushes, diverting her gaze.

“Hello!” Shirley says cheerily as she enters the room. “Sorry I’m late. There was a post-lunch rush, and I had to wait for a lull to close up shop.” She giggles, pleased.

Annie squeezes her arm when she sits down.

“Where’s Chang?” Britta asks. Then adds, “I didn’t kidnap him, in case anyone thinks so little of me they'd accuse me of such a reprehensible act.”

"You had motive, means, and opportunity," Jeff rolls his eyes.

"Your face has motive, means, and opportunity."

"Good one."

Annie drops her binder onto the table to stop their squabbling and passes around the agenda. “He never answered any of my emails or texts about his teaching schedule, so for all I know he has class right now.”

“Ha!” Chang appears, his head popping out from a missing tile in the ceiling over the second, unused table in the room. “I only teach online classes.”

Everyone screams.

“How did you even _get up there_?” Annie asks, incredulous.

“My bat friends let me up. They were hesitant to accept me at first, but the monkey gave me a character reference.”

“ _Get down_!”

Chang drops himself onto the floor and brushes dust off the front of his shirt.

“Bats can have rabies,” Abed says. “You should probably go to the nurse.”

Chang doesn't seem to hear him, though. He notices Troy in his seat and rushes over, puffing out his chest. “You think because you’re back you can just steal my place in the study group, in Abed’s heart!? Well then you’ve got another think coming because—”

Troy holds up his hands in surrender.

“Oi!” Duncan yells. “Just sit in the empty chair next to him, you clot.”

“We’re not technically a study group anymore, and your place in my heart is limited to interest in the crazy things you do,” Abed adds helpfully.

Chang falls into Pierce’s old seat and pouts.

“Great,” Annie claps her hands to get everyone’s attention. She’s missed this all break, and her eyes slide around the table of her friends.

Jeff’s gentle and adoring smile distracts her so much that she loses her train of thought and trails off.

“Aren’t you going to do something lame and procedural like read the minutes from our last meeting?” Britta prompts.

“Hm? Oh! Right, yes. If everyone would like to follow along on their agenda…”

Things are going according to schedule until the flow of the meeting is disrupted by Annie's announcements.

“As some of you already know,” Annie starts as soon as they finish discussing their goals for the semester. “I sent around a poll to the students of Greendale over winter break about fundraising for our upcoming student showcase. Because _someone_ can’t follow directions—”

“You’re welcome,” Abed inserts.

“A write-in idea won.”

“By a landslide,” Abed raises his eyebrows pointedly.

“Nothing is confirmed—so I need you guys to keep quiet about this—buuuut...” she draws out the suspense.

“We’re going to play Paintball Assassins, us versus the entire school.”

“Abed!”

“You were taking too long.”

Annie slumps in her seat. "What he said."

Everyone at the table starts murmuring with excitement.

"It'll be like that scene in _Kill Bill_ when The Bride fights the Crazy 88," Troy bounces in his seat.

"Or like when the lower class enacts their revolution in _Snowpiercer_ ," Abed replies.

"We can dress all stealthy and crawl through the air ducts," Britta adds.

"I'll get the bats to help us!" Chang jumps out of his chair. Shirley pulls him back down into his seat.

"Guys," Annie says, "let's not put the cart before the horse. We can't hold the game here, and unless we find a suitable location it won't happen at all."

"We should sneak onto City College's campus and have it there," Duncan says. "There's this psychology professor there, Dr. Freud—no relation to that Austrian wanker despite his suggestive email signature—who's always sending me his publications just to rub them in my face. I want to defecate in his desk."

"Ew," Annie squeals, scooting closer to Shirley.

"That's a great way to land Greendale a lawsuit it can't reasonably pay for," Jeff points out.

"Pierce's mansion," Troy exclaims. "I'll have to talk to Gilbert, but it's big enough."

Annie points excitedly at him before scribbling a note in her binder.

Abed nods approvingly at Troy. "We're familiar with the layout, so that helps balance the odds." 

"It's a good idea," Annie agrees. "Let me know what Gilbert says about it, okay?" Troy nods. "Okay, great, we'll table the discussion of paintball until we have more information. Onto the next order of business. Give yourselves a round of applause for completing 53 grant proposals over the fall semester."

The group claps, and when the noise dies down, Jeff adds, "Now let's give Annie a round of applause because she probably did more than half of those by herself."

"Aww," Annie flushes with appreciation as they congratulate her. "I couldn't have done it without you guys. Anyway, of those 53 proposals, we've been awarded four. Which sounds dismal, I know, but that's a collective $60,500 for the school. _And_ the salary to support a new STEM faculty member, thanks to Shirley, who wrote the proposal for the Marie Curie grant."

Everyone oohs and ahhs, and Shirley gives herself a congratulatory "You go girl" complete with snaps.

"Now, I'd like to get just as many—if not more—out this semester. At the end of your agendas you'll find a new list of grants we should target."

Everyone groans.

"I figured since you're sleeping with Jeff now we'd get a semester off," Britta grumbles.

Jeff and Annie freeze, their gazes locking.

Duncan snaps his fingers in understanding. " _That's_ what the footsie was about." Jeff quirks an eyebrow at Annie, who clears her throat.

"Well, since the topic's been broached," she hedges.

"Annie and I are, in fact, together. You better get your digs in now, you goons," Jeff finishes for her.

"That's nice," Shirley trills, grabbing Annie's hand and squeezing.

"I thought you guys had been doing it for years," Chang snorts. "Suckers."

Annie catches Jeff's eye and mouths the word _May_. He rolls his eyes at her, grinning.

"Mushy banana of love," Troy waggles his eyebrows at Jeff.

"Excuse me?"

"That's Troy-speak for 'I'm happy for you guys'," Annie clarifies. Then, since it seems like everyone’s had their say, she adds, “That’s all we have to talk about unless anyone else has an announcement.”

Duncan clears his throat meaningfully and Britta slams the table. “Oh, totally! Okay, so, since Duncan’s been unable to do anything meaningful with his career—”

“Hey!” he protests. His goofy smile at Britta dulls the effect of the indignation, though.

“He’s letting me run an experiment this semester. We’re going to get people with issues to come to a therapy session. Half the people will go to him, half to me. Then they take an exit survey. Six weeks later, we get the same people to come back, only they see the opposite person, and then take the same exit survey. It’s going to be a therapy revolution.”

“We’re not really sure what we’re trying to prove yet,” Duncan says, “but it’s at least as organized as anything I’ve tried before.”

“Obviously you guys can’t participate, but we were hoping you’d help administer the surveys.”

“I’m in,” Annie smiles at Britta, who bumps her fists together appreciatively.

“As long as it doesn’t cut into business hours, I’ll be there,” Shirley promises.

Annie shoots Jeff a significant look.

He huffs. “Yeah, alright, I’ll probably be around.”

“I already made posters to hang around campus,” Britta says eagerly, pulling a stack of paper out of her bag.

The design is cluttered. The only clearly legible words are the title, written in the ‘Got Milk?’ ad font: Got Issues?

“These are terrible,” Abed scoffs as if they personally offend him. “I’m going to make you better posters.”

“Dope.”

Abed shakes his head mournfully at her.

Rachel sticks her head into the room then. “Hey everybody,” she waves. “Abed, you ready to help me film that video for the nursing home?”

“Rachel’s working on her volunteer hours for her social engineering degree,” Abed tells the group proudly. “Coming,” he promises her as he gathers his things.

“Meeting adjourned, I guess,” Annie says as Abed leaves.

Troy turns to Shirley. “Will you help me make a schedule? I’m going to be a business major.”

“Oh,” Shirley claps her hands. “Of course, sweetie. Walk with me back to the sandwich shop?”

They leave, chatting about the available courses.

“I might go to the nurse, after all,” Chang sighs. “I don’t feel so well.”

Britta rolls her eyes. “I’ll take you there, Señor Crazypants.”

“I’ve got a class,” Duncan pats Britta on the shoulder as he leaves. She smiles up at him before getting her own stuff and tugging Chang out of his chair.

And then Jeff and Annie are alone again.

Annie feels strangely nervous, excitement tingling in the pit of her stomach. “So,” she says.

“So,” he responds.

“Want to go make out in your office till I have class?”

Jeff’s practically out the door before she’s finished her sentence.

Annie hurries to follow after him, giggling all the way.

###

They haven’t even been dating for a week when they have their first fight as a couple.

Annie works an eight hour shift at Barnes and Noble on Saturday, and she’s coming straight from the mall to stay the night at Jeff’s for the first time.

Spurred on by anticipation, he spends the day cleaning his bathroom, washing the sheets on his bed, and stocking up on groceries that he thinks Annie might like.

He’s matching pillowcases with their designated pillows when his phone buzzes in his pocket.

“Hey,” Jeff answers. “Done at work?”

“Finally,” Annie confirms, sounding tired and distracted. “I’m on my way over. Can I use your shower when I get there? I feel stale.”

“Of course.”

There’s some rustling on her end of the line and then she’s saying, “I gotta go. Be there in thirty.”

Jeff finishes making the bed and then sits to watch TV—his leg bouncing with nervous energy—until there’s a knock at his door.

She falls into his chest the moment he has the door open, and Jeff sighs with relief before running his fingers through the hair of her ponytail. “Hi,” he smiles into the top of her head.

“Hi,” Annie’s breath is hot and soaks into the fabric of his t-shirt.

“How was work?” he asks, pulling her a few steps inside the threshold so he can close the door. She drops a duffle bag on the ground.

“Many books,” Annie says shortly.

“You okay?”

She nods, nuzzling into his chest, and squeezes him tighter. “Just dazed. And my feet hurt.”

Jeff kisses the top of her head. “Well, we have the whole evening ahead of us, and then an entire day with nothing to do after that. Should be enough time to rejuvenate you.”

Annie hums and pulls away to look up at his face. Her hands slide from his back to settle at his hips, and she tugs at his shirt.

Jeff gets what she wants and leans down to kiss her.

“Hmm,” he licks his lips. “Stale Annie.”

Her eyes glimmer with amusement. “I should go shower.”

“Okay.”

“Really, I plan to move any time now.”

“Whatever you feel is necessary.”

She lets her head fall into his chest again and inhales deeply. “Okay, I’m really going now.” But she doesn’t move for several moments more, and Jeff snorts.

Annie pulls away, grinning sheepishly at him, and slides her backpack off her shoulders. Then she retrieves the duffle bag and springs up on her tip-toes to give Jeff a peck on the lips before heading for the bathroom.

“Want me to make dinner while you’re in the shower?”

Annie twirls to face him, hand on the door handle. “I’m not hungry yet. Plus, I want to help.”

He shakes his head, smiling warmly at her. “Okay.”

She’s about to close the door behind her but pauses, suddenly serious. “You know we can’t spend all of tomorrow doing nothing, right? I have a lot to get done.”

He rolls his eyes. “Whatever you say, Neurotically Negative Nancy.”

She sticks her tongue out at him. “You promised to proofread the script for my Governmental Procedures skit.”

“I didn’t forget,” he assures her.

She gives him a business-like nod, and then closes the door.

Jeff’s not quite sure what to do with himself while Annie showers. He entertains the idea of joining her, egged on by the noise of the water running. It makes him hyperaware that she’s in there, _naked_ and _sudsy_.

But he resists, not sure she’d be comfortable with that. (And makes a mental note to ask her opinion on shower sex.)

He bounces his fist against his hip repeatedly and looks around the room. Annie’s backpack—the same purple bag she’s had since freshman year, which fills him with an absurd amount of fondness—is sitting by the door and Jeff goes to move it to the bedroom. The zipper isn’t done all the way and he can see her laptop nestled inside.

An idea strikes him.

They get to spend more time with each other later if he gets work done _now_. And what if he found the file of her skit, emailed it to himself, and worked on it while she’s showering?

It would be weird, going through her laptop, though. He only knows her password by happenstance (a third-year lab report emergency that he doesn’t like to talk about).

On the other hand, he’s familiar with her document titling system. He’s been on the receiving end of many an email attachment and knows how she organizes things. If he searches “Government Procedures_assignment_Testimony skit” he’s bound to find it. Jeff’s willing to bet the continued existence of his hair on it.

He stands, undecided, in the middle of his room, the backpack clenched in his right fist.

The longer he waits to act at all, the more pointless any action will be.

Jeff swallows his unease, telling himself that Annie won’t mind when she hears his reasoning, and sits on the edge of his bed, sliding the laptop out of the bag. He boots it up and, sure enough, the password is still M@rkRuffal0.

He searches the drive for the document and runs a satisfied hand through his hair when it exists.

He’s just logging onto his email when Annie appears in the doorway to his bedroom, smelling pungently floral and looking scrumptious in plaid pajama pants and the hoodie he lent her during New Years. “Oh, there you a—” Her smile abruptly disappears when she sees her computer perched on his lap, replaced with a scowl. “What are you doing?”

He’d been expecting her to take a longer shower.

And even if he had thought about getting caught, he’d never imagine Annie so furious with him. It catches him off guard and makes him stutter. “I—I thought—”

Annie lunges forward and rips the laptop from his hands, slamming it shut. “This is a total invasion of privacy that I thought you were above!”

“Whoa, there,” he finds his voice. “I was just looking for the skit, there’s no need to overreact.”

Something about his choice of words makes her nostrils flare and her spine straighten. She turns crisply on her heel and charges back into the bathroom, laptop tucked under her arm.

“Wait, what?” he addresses the room. That was…not how he pictured the start of this evening. They were supposed to hang out on the couch for a while, maybe have sex in every room of the apartment. He was going to make them chicken parmesan and not feel guilty for eating whole-wheat pasta.

Now she’s going to spend the night huddled in the bathroom, mad at him for what he can only assume was a huge misunderstanding?

Displeased by the idea, Jeff jumps off his bed and stands in front of the bathroom door. He knocks, then tries the knob, but she’s locked herself in. “Annie,” he addresses the door, “come on. I thought you were going to be longer, and I wanted to get a head start on proofing your skit.”

He hears her scoff disbelievingly.

He rattles the handle and growls in frustration. “I’m serious. Will you please come out and talk to me?”

Silence.

“I didn’t mean to offend you.”

Silence.

“Come _on_ , Annie.”

Still nothing.

“You can’t reasonably stay in there all night. I can wait you out, you know.”

She doesn’t make a peep.

“Please don’t make me wait you out,” he whines.

Several tense heartbeats later, she cracks the door. “I was checking to see what you had open.”

“Oh.” He’s a hairsbreadth away from falling to his knees with relief. “And?”

“It looks like you were sending yourself my skit.”

“Because I was.”

Annie lets the door fall open all the way and hangs her head. Her wet hair is piled into a bun atop her head and a few beads of water inch along her temple. “My mom used to go through my phone and laptop,” she says finally. “Keeping tabs on me or whatever.”

It takes him a second to understand that she’s explaining her reaction. “That sounds…like it sucked.”

She nods and shuffles her feet. He tentatively reaches out his fingers to brush the drops of water away before cupping her cheek in his palm, easing her face up to look at him.

Annie’s eyelashes flutter and then she meets his stare. “I didn’t mean to snap at you like that. I just…it’s an old battle. And it’s not _your_ battle, but you wandered onto the battlefield. I kinda lost it, huh?”

“No,” he assures her. “Well, yes. But parents fuck us up. I know that better than anyone.”

She sighs and her fingers bunch in his t-shirt, pulling him closer. “Thanks, Jeff. I’m sorry.”

He smooths his thumb over her cheekbone. “You’re already forgiven. And I’m sorry, too, for the record. I won’t go through your stuff again without permission.”

Her puckered frown relaxes into a tentative and grateful smile. “You know what?”

“What?”

“I love you.”

He grabs her face in both hands and kisses her, slow and tender. She groans, needy, into his open mouth. When they break away to breathe, resting their foreheads against each other, he laughs and marvels at how easy it is to say: “I love you, too.”

###

Annie’s in the middle of her Genetics class when the dean texts her.

_EMERGENCY: come 2 my office_

She pales and gathers her things in a hurry.

Greendale faculty are so used to students leaving in the middle of class that Professor Newman only nods at Annie when she pauses at the door, never breaking the flow of the lecture.

After sprinting to the dean’s office, Annie stops by the receptionist’s counter to catch her breath. Rhonda, ever-exasperated, rolls her eyes. “He’s worked himself into a tizzy in there.”

“Do you know what it’s about?”

“Honey, I stopped listening to him blather on years ago.”

Annie nods, squares her shoulders, and knocks on the door. “Dean?” she calls.

The door flies open. “Oh, Annie, thank god you’re here.” He ushers her inside, and she gives him the onceover. He doesn’t look hurt….

“What’s going on?”

Instead of answering, he clings to her and starts whimpering into her shoulder. “I’m useless. A pack of beavers moved into the theater, another coffeemaker’s been fried in the teachers’ lounge because they keep using alcohol instead of water, and I think Starburns is using the stables to grow cannabis again. I can’t do anything right.”

Annie pats his shoulder sympathetically, but, honestly, how has he not come to terms with his own incompetence yet?

“Dean,” she says delicately, “I left class for this. You’re saying there’s no real emergency?”

He breaks away from her and flops onto the couch dramatically, shielding his face with his arm. “No real emergency? No _real_ emergency!? This school is a mess, Annie. And no amount of money or determination is going to fix it. Not while I’m at the helm of this ship. Face it, I destroy everything I touch! _Every single_ school I ran before Greendale shut down.”

“Exactly,” she snaps her fingers. “ _Before_ Greendale. Before you found the one place you truly belong.” He moans and she perches on the edge of the couch tentatively. “Could you be doing a better job? Sure. But you care about this place as much as I do. And that counts for something. That’s what most of these students need—someone who cares unconditionally about them. No questions asked, you’re already accepted.”

Dean Pelton sniffles and looks up at her. “I used to think that. That I could make everything better on intention alone. But after six years of barely staying afloat, I’m not so sure. I’m a bad dean.”

Annie stands. “You’re always saying that, expecting people to coddle you and swear it’s not true. But you know, _that’s_ what makes you a bad dean. Your inaction. If you’re struggling, just ask for help! Do something to make yourself a _good_ dean.”

When he doesn’t say anything, she turns to leave. “I heard you and Jeffrey are dating,” he says meekly.

She rounds on him again. “Is that what this is about? You’re having a breakdown over my personal life?”

The dean bursts into tears and Annie immediately regrets snapping. She kicks her foot into the ground once in exasperation, leaving a scuff mark on the floor, and then sits back down next to him. She pulls him into a hug and lets him cry for a while.

Finally, the deluge slows, then stops, and Dean Pelton sits up to grab a box of tissues off his desk without making eye contact. “I feel empty.”

“Because there are now multiple reasons harassing Jeff is unacceptable?”

The dean laughs humorlessly. “ _No_. Maybe a little, if I’m being honest with myself. Though I really like to avoid that when at all possible.” Annie rolls her eyes. “I just. I had my place in the group, and for the past five years I’ve really felt like you guys are my family.”

“We’re not going to stop being your family because the group dynamic has changed a little.”

“But I don’t know who I am or how I fit in and the only time I’ve ever been secure about those things was when I was being the crazy dean for you guys.”

“You deserve better than that, though. You shouldn’t be a gambit in our flying circus. You’re a flying circus all on your own. You deserve to feel good about your job and have a relationship instead of an infatuation. But until you figure out how to get those things for yourself, it’s okay to feel a little lost and empty.”

Dean Pelton wrings a tissue in his hands and nods. “Thanks, Annie.”

She squeezes his shoulder. “Next time you want to talk about life stuff, you don’t need to lure me to your office under false pretenses. Just be honest with me, and I’ll make time for you.”

He smiles sadly at her and— though he’s infuriating—Annie feels affection swell in her chest. “I’m glad Jeff told you about his feelings. It was killing me not to say anything, and you two do make a lovely couple.”

“You knew, too? He was telling everybody but me,” she growls, making a note to punish him later.

The dean stands and brushes himself off. “That boy is a mess, right?”

Annie raises a pointed eyebrow, but the dean is back to being blissfully unaware. “I’m going back to class. You're going to be okay?”

He waves off her concern with a flourish.

Annie nods to Rhonda on her way out and just barely catches the dean’s voice calling, “Rhonda? Get your brainstorming pad out! I need to pick an outfit to scold the teachers about their drinking problem, and it’s got to look authoritative…and frilly!”

###

Life is good.

Like, really good.

Jeff can't remember a time he's been happier. He doesn't have to psych himself up to get out of bed in the morning. He doesn't feel crushingly lonely or misanthropic.

He mostly feels…restful.

Which defies all logic because dating Annie is anything but.

Dating Annie is like getting on one of those spinning carnival rides. She's a powerful force that holds him securely in place and spins him for loop at the same time.

Dating Annie is an endless slideshow of "wouldn't it be fun to learn to knit" and "can you proofread this assignment?" and "we should start a book club; all of Rainbow Rowell’s stuff is fabulous, not just _Eleanor & Park_!"

She never stops—she barely _slows_ —and Jeff should be exhausted and annoyed. Or, at the very least, confused that he's _not_ exhausted or annoyed.

Instead, he's just restful.

He's watching her now, hunched over Britta's draft of survey questions, using a purple pen to make corrections. She taps the end of it against the tip of her nose when she’s trying to think of a better word or phrase, and it’s maybe the cutest thing he’s ever seen.

The Save Greendale Committee meeting ended fifteen minutes ago, but most of them don't have anywhere else to be. So they’re hanging out. Like old times.

"You can't just explicitly ask if they feel more comfortable talking to a woman because they assume she has maternal instincts," Annie criticizes. "You have to be more subtle than that to avoid influencing the response."

Britta sticks her tongue out. "Okay, Miss Know-It-All. I haven't read the chapter on research methods yet."

Annie gapes at her. "Why wouldn't you do that before writing this?"

"Because I knew you were going to look it over and make it perfect." Britta bats her eyelashes.

"Bleh," Annie shoves the paper back over the table. "Flattery is not going to work. Talk to me once you've done your share of the work."

Britta makes a face that Annie doesn’t see because she's too busy retrieving her laptop from her backpack.

Shirley’s helping Troy with homework. Abed’s planning a weekend getaway for him and Rachel that sounds better suited for Troy, and Chang’s offering insane suggestions. Britta begrudgingly flips to the chapter on research in her psych textbook.

Jeff _should_ be grading the Bill of Rights assignment he gave all his intro classes, but he’s pretty content to alternate between staring into space and watching his friends.

His phone lights up in his hands.

It’s a text from Annie: _hey slacker :)_

He glances over at her, but she’s fixated on her computer screen. Jeff smirks.

Jeff: _i’m not slacking_

Annie: _fine. hey daydreamer_

Jeff: _i’m not daydreaming either_

Annie: _you practically have thought bubbles floating in the air above your head_

“I always thought entrepreneurs were people who revolutionized the manure industry.” Troy raps his pencil on the table in agitation. “But they can make anything they want?”

Shirley sighs. “It’s more or less someone who starts their own business.”

Troy slaps the table. “You’re an entrepreneur! I always thought manure and brownies were weird things that didn’t go together, but you were always just talking about having your own business.”

Shirley gives him the same look she gives her children when they're ignoring her commands, like she's imaging creative ways to eliminate him.

Jeff: _at least my thought bubbles are full of actual, coherent thoughts_

Annie: _be nice. Troy's trying really hard to make something of himself._

Jeff: _nuh-uh, his goal has always been to make a lot of $$$ w/o having to work v hard_

Annie: _well then at least he's working to realize those goals :p_

Jeff: _u r impossible to sway_

She sneaks a look at him, this brilliant, wide smile on her face. Jeff has no control over his responding grin.

"Maybe we could ride the Durango & Silverton Narrow Gauge Railroad and go to the museum," Abed muses.

Troy stops puzzling over a question about supply and demand to add, "Nice! _Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid_."

"Or, or," Chang waves his hands dramatically, "tie her to the tracks like a classic villain and see if she can get out before the train comes. You could even wear your cape!"

Annie: _that's the sixth time Chang's suggested Abed murder Rachel in thirty minutes. Do you think we should warn her?_

Jeff: _meh_

Jeff: _he’s incompetent and Rachel’s nice and everything, but i’m not really worried_

Annie: _you're kind of a terrible person, you know that?_

Jeff: _yeah, but u love me_

Annie: _I do. I really do._

She's already gazing at him when he looks up, her eyes full of it—her love for him.

His world goes spinning, and he has to look away when he can hear his heart beating in his ear.

Jeff: _love u 2_

Later that night, he's crawling up the bed after being positioned between her thighs for a considerable amount of time. He settles on his side, and Annie fits perfectly against the scoop of his body, her knees curving at the same angle as his. He can rest his chin on the top of her head, and her hair gets caught in his scruff.

"That was nice," Annie sighs, satiated.

Jeff scoffs. "Just nice?"

"Too sleepy to come up with more fitting adjectives."

He tightens his grip around her and lets himself just exist in this peaceful moment.

"Hey," he says after a bit.

"Mm?"

"Thanks for today."

She strains to look back at him. He can make out the outline of her features in the dark, but not much detail. "What'd I do?"

Jeff buries his face in the hair at her neck, breathing her in. "You were Annie."

He can feel the vibrations of her soft laughter. "I like to be Annie. Especially now."

"You make me especially like being Jeff," he says quietly into the fragrant skin. He's quiet for a while longer before saying, "Remember when you called me out about my constant texting?"

"Hmm." She must have drifted off again. "I call you out a lot. Need specifics."

He smiles. "I believe your exact words were, 'Who are you always texting? Everyone you know is here'."

She shifts in his arms, turning to face him. "Sounds familiar. Why bring it up?"

She's started tracing the basins and bulges at the base of his throat, and it takes a moment for him to catch his breath. "It was nice. Today. Having someone on the other end for once."

He hears her breath catch and then she's kissing him, brushing her soft lips against any skin she has access to. "I'll always be on the other end," she promises.

He kisses her smooth forehead. "I know."


	11. 3c of 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Word Count:** 8,625  
>  **Disclaimer:** These characters belong to Dan Harmon, etc., etc. I simply enjoy manipulating them.  
>  **Author's Note:** A hearty thank you to bethanyactually who still had this chapter edited on time even though I was late writing the end of it. I could not have asked for a better beta. The title comes from a Four Star Mary song called "She Knows." 
> 
> The bad news is that I'm going to take another week off posting. I'm expecting paintball to be a pretty long chapter, and I need the extra time to write it all. The good news is, including paintball, there are still three chapters left of this fic. So plenty of J/A fluff and smut to go. :)

Thursdays are not kind to Annie. She has two labs, two normal classes, and the closing shift at Barnes and Noble. Not to mention assignments to complete, reading to keep up with, and balancing all her extracurriculars (which now includes a generous amount of time spent with Jeff).

It's only the third week of the semester, and she already feels exhaustion hitting her hard. Usually having a full schedule crowded with activities energizes Annie, but there's a chance she may have taken on too much, trying to get all that she can out of her last semester at Greendale.

She's thinking about the lab report she should write so she doesn't miss the 9:00 deadline tomorrow morning, and the grant Troy wrote that needs (a lot of) editing, and everything on her growing list of things to do as she trudges up the stairs of her building to the third floor.

Her key isn't jiggling right in the lock and Annie's about to lose it when the door flies open and she's suddenly swept into a Jeff hug.

Her body melts into his and it's like she's taking her first, desperate gulp of air after being submerged in water all day.

"I didn't know you were going to be here," Annie sighs against his chest.

"Surprise." She can hear the smile in his voice so she lets her head loll back to bask in the warmth of it.

"What's the occasion?"

"You've been on edge this week, and I thought you could use a reprieve." He leads her further into the apartment to a table set with all the fixings for tacos.

"This smells amazing," Annie compliments as she removes her backpack and sets it on the kitchen counter.

"He wouldn't let me eat any of it," Troy says, making her jump. He's pouting on his bed (the fold-out couch), old Looney Tunes cartoons playing quietly on the television.

Jeff rolls his eyes. "I told you that you can have whatever's leftover."

"I don't want to be fed scraps like a dog," Troy whines. Then, after a moment of consideration, "I take that back. Sounds awesome."

Annie checks her watch: a quarter to midnight. "Okay, we'll eat and then have ten minutes of snuggling and digesting before I have to work."

Jeff narrows his eyes, looking ready to negotiate. "Fifteen minutes."

She can't cave. Allowing Jeff an extra minute—or five—only convinces him to bargain for more.

And he knows exactly the way to look at her to make her resolve crumble.

If fact, he's giving her the look now, all puppy-dog eyes and pouty mouth atop rippling muscles….

"No," she points a stern finger at him, shaking herself out of the trance. "Bad. I can't. I have a lot of work to do."

"And I'll I'm asking for is five measly additional minutes before you devote your energy to taking the world by storm." He raises his eyebrows and takes two tantalizingly slow steps toward her until they're pressed up against each other.

God, now that she knows exactly what's under his (annoying, unnecessary) clothes, her libido kicks into overdrive every time he's _right there_.

"Fifteen minutes and not a second longer." His smile unfurls, triumphant. "I'm serious," she says firmly.

"I'll be good." But his evil, evil grin makes her think otherwise.

"Do you two mind?" Troy says. "I'm trying to enjoy my bedtime stories."

"You're watching cartoons," Annie points out.

"Are you saying cartoons don’t have a storyline? Besides, they relax me."

She shakes her head fondly and sits down at the table. Jeff sits across from her, and she can feel him watching her as she scoops shredded chicken onto a tortilla.

"How was work?" he asks once he starts preparing his own late dinner.

"Exhausting," Annie gripes. "Thorin was weirdly motivated to do work today, so we reorganized the stock room and spent more time cleaning up after close than usual."

"That bastard."

She chuckles. "It's fine. Clearly I survived. How were classes?"

Jeff perks up. “I’m glad you asked. I have a proposal for you.”

“Oh yeah? What’s that?”

“Well, Garrett was bragging to a few of my advanced students about his involvement in the Ass Crack Bandit case, and it gave me an idea.”

“Garrett was _bragging_ about being cracked?”

“His life is sad and meaningless, Annie. He’s a Greendale lifer.”

She cocks a pointed eyebrow at him.

“I’m going to get out eventually,” he insists.

“Mhmm.”

“I _am_.”

“I just don’t think you should be so judgmental of Garrett.”

“Yeah,” Troy chimes in. “He may be to people what beanbag chairs are to places for resting your butt, but he gets major points for going about his life like he’s a La-Z-Boy.”

Jeff purses his lips as if thinking up a response, but then decides to leave it be. “ _Anyway_ , we’re on the chapter about proper courtroom procedure, and I thought it would be cool to do a practical demonstration.”

“Such as?”

“Well, would you be free to make a guest appearance on Tuesday?”

Annie smiles and gets up to retrieve her planner from her bag. She flips to the coming Tuesday. “What time is that class again?”

“4:45 to 6 o’clock.”

She writes it in. “I’ll be there.”

“Excellent,” Jeff says and takes a bite of his taco.

“While I have this out,” she taps the pen against the leather cover, “have you confirmed the dates we can use the mansion with Gilbert, Troy?”

“Saturday March 22nd,” Troy says. “We’re a go for paintball.”

“Everyone’ll be excited.” Annie smiles to herself as she flips forward to March and takes note.

As soon as she takes the first bite of her taco, all conversation ceases as she focuses her energy on devouring much-needed food.

Once she’s too full to eat anything else, she sits back in her chair and folds her hands over her stomach. “That was delicious. Thanks, Jeff.”

“Anything for you.” He waggles his eyebrows and it makes her laugh.

Troy, noticing they’re done, gets off the couch. “Are you really going to make me beg for the leftovers?” he checks.

“Of course not. Just sit down like a regular person,” Jeff says.

Pleased, Troy slides into a chair and immediately tears into the food. His mouth his full when he manages a muffled, “Thanks, Jeff. ‘Sgood.”

Jeff makes a disgusted face and stands to clear some dishes off the table.

“Slow down,” Annie says, “You’re going to give yourself a stomachache.”

Troy gulps down a particularly large mouthful and reaches for Annie’s water. She doesn’t protest.

“Hey, I need a favor,” he says, whispering.

“Sounds serious,” Jeff comments, sitting back down.

“It is serious,” Troy confirms. “Super-secret serious. You can’t tell Abed about what I’m going to ask you.”

“Oh, Troy, I don’t know if I’m comf—”

“I need your help looking for an apartment,” he says over her, squeezing his eyes shut so he doesn’t have to see her reaction.

“Oh,” Annie squeaks.

“Wow,” Jeff adds.

“Yeah.” Troy shakes his head. “I don’t want to sleep on the couch anymore, and I don’t want to ask Abed to give up his personal space. I mean, things are different and I’m not sure…” he trails off. “Anyway, can you do it? Can you help me find a place?”

Annie sucks nervously on her lower lip and nods. “Okay.”

Troy throws his arms around her. “Thanks, Annie. You’re the best.”

“Give me a price range and I can pick out a few places around town to go look at.”

He bounces happily in his seat and takes another inadvisably large bite of food.

“You ready for those digestion snuggles?” Jeff asks. Annie nods and gathers her things. “We’re sticking you with the cleanup, scrap boy.”

“Ooh,” Troy gasps. “Scrap Boy and Wonder Dog: Adventures in Eating!”

“Yeaaaah,” Jeff claps him on the back. “Those adventures include cleaning up, right?”

Troy waves off his concern. “Yeah, yeah.”

Jeff flops onto her bed the minute they get to Annie’s room and she eases the door shut. She sets a timer on her phone before curling up on her side next to him.

“So that was an unexpected development,” Jeff says quietly as he trails his hand up her thigh, over her hip, and around her back to settle between her shoulder blades and pull her closer to him.

“It was and it wasn’t,” she grabs fistfuls of his shirt and tugs him as close as she can.

He grunts his agreement, his eyes glimmering with what Annie can only assume are lustful thoughts.

Sure enough, before she has the time to question him, his mouth is over hers, moving insistently. She moans, low and long, into his mouth and juts her hips forward.

She pulls back to catch her breath after several moments, but Jeff continues on without her, his hot breath tickling along her jawline.

“Fifteen minutes,” she reminds him breathlessly.

He nips at her earlobe in response.

Twenty-five minutes later, naked and wrapped in a sheet, Annie goes to work on her lab report as Jeff continues to snooze in her bed.

###

Jeff’s advanced law class is easily his favorite of the semester. There are only thirteen students, and they’re always eager to hear stories about Jeff’s past courtroom successes. He gets to feel like a wise mentor for an hour and fifteen minutes every Tuesday and Thursday, which is a nice change of pace from feeling like a big fake.

“Evening, class,” Jeff says as he walks to the front of 216 South Hall and throws his briefcase down on the rickety metal desk. “Did you guys get my email?”

Several of the kids murmur confirmation.

“Good. Then you’ve gathered some information on the assailant known as the Ass Crack Bandit?”

More muttering.

“C’mon guys, speak up. It’s going to get real awkward real fast for those of you who are unprepared. Save yourselves the embarrassment and raise your hands now if you don’t have anything.”

Five hands go up.

“Fine. We don’t have time for everyone to participate anyway. And since the assignment was last-minute, I’ll give those of you who didn’t do the work a pass on today’s participation points. But I expect a one-page write up about the demonstration today.”

The five unprepared students look a little put out but don’t argue.

Annie sweeps into the room then, out of breath and red-cheeked from rushing across campus. “Sorry I’m late,” she addresses Jeff and waves to the class as she bounces to the front of the room.

“Nah, you’re right on time,” Jeff assures her. “Class, this is Annie Edison. You may know her as Greendale’s resident overachiever, leader of the Save Greendale Committee, or writer of challenging and fun crosswords for the _Gazette Journal Mirror_. And, if you did your research, you definitely know her as the lead investigator on the ACB case.”

Several students perk up, looking impressed and interested.

Annie flushes. “You’re overselling me. I led an unofficial investigation. And, as many of you already know, the Bandit was never apprehended.”

“Not yet,” Jeff amends. Annie rolls her eyes playfully at him. “And, anyway, for the sake of today’s class, we’re going to pretend they were. We’re going to perform a mock trial where the Ass Crack Bandit’s being charged with crimes against humanity. Everyone who did research will get the chance to play lawyer and question Miss Edison here. We’re going to count off by twos to see who’s going to question for the defense and who’s prosecuting. Bryant, we’ll start with you.”

After the room’s been split into two teams—and the scraping of desks being rearranged dies down—Jeff gives the students fifteen minutes to go over their collective notes and prepare.

He pulls a chair up next to the professor’s desk for Annie and then sits down.

“This is so cool,” Annie bounces in her seat. “Getting to see you in professor mode. You’ve grown so much.”

He’d be exasperated or flustered if she didn’t sound so damn proud of him. “Well, my first week of teaching a real compulsive type gave me a hard time for being a slacker. She’s been pushing me to get my ass in gear ever since.”

“She sounds very reasonable and magnanimous, and she probably has really nice hair.”

Jeff narrows his eyes, but he can’t seem to stop smiling. “I can neither confirm nor deny that.”

Once the fifteen minutes are up, Jeff pounds on his desk and calls for order. “Any brave lawyers in-the-making want to volunteer to go first?”

One of his shyer students, Oliva, raises her hands. Jeff frowns and waves her forward, impressed.

“All right, the prosecution has it.”

Olivia’s flats are a little too big for her, and she trips over her feet on the way to the front of the classroom.

“Um, hello,” she addresses Annie, tucking her stringy blonde hair behind her ear.

“No need to greet the witness,” Jeff says.

Olivia flushes red and Annie gives her a kind smile. The girl rolls her shoulders back and grips her notebook tighter. “Miss Edison,” Oliva tries again, “You have a strong connection to the Ass Crack Bandit’s case, right?” She flushes an even brighter shade on the word ‘ass,’ her voice cracking ever so slightly.

Annie nods amiably. “You could say that, yes.”

“You, um, have known him longer than most.”

Annie’s nose scrunches. “Okay, I know that the Bandit’s supposedly been caught for the sake of this activity, but we really don’t know the gender of the assailant. You should try to avoid gendering them.”

Jeff cocks his eyebrow at her. “I _will_ give them permission to treat you as hostile.”

“I’m just saying, accuracy is important.” Jeff’s stare is unwavering. “Okay, fine, sorry. Continue,” she prompts Olivia.

“O-okay,” Oliva studies her notebook, her eyebrows drawn together. “Um, reports of the 2011 student election at Greendale Community College show the first ever mention of the Ass Crack Bandit. I mean, I think. We only had the weekend to dig up information.”

“Never admit you’re underprepared,” Jeff says, rubbing a hand over his face. “That goes for court and life.”

“Yes,” Annie confirms. “The ACB was terrorizing the school for some time before the administration did anything about it.”

“Only in fits and starts though, right? There wasn’t a constant stream of activity?”

“That’s true.”

“Come on,” Jeff sighs. “You’re the prosecution. Your goal is to make the ACB look like the bad guy. Highlighting periods of inactivity is poor strategy.”

“Whoops. Sorry. So, uh, the most extensive record of the Bandit’s activities—submitted to campus security and made public record after the case went cold—was actually a binder full of articles and personal speculation that you put together. That’s correct, right?”

“Be more direct with your questions,” Jeff suggests. Olivia twists the metal binding on her notebook and nods weakly.

“Yes, I had been keeping track of the Bandit’s activities.”

“Would you mind outlining a few attacks for the record?”

“Better,” Jeff approves.

“Not at all. I was first made aware of the ACB when I attended a budget meeting for which a protest had been planned regarding an informative anti-drug skit I was running. The Bandit “cracked”, or dropped coins between the gluteal muscles, of several individuals on the board. Needless to say, the meeting was postponed. Later, the Bandit attacked three innocent students during a Greendale versus City College baseball game. And, perhaps the most heinous of all, the ACB targeted a dear friend of mine and an esteemed professor while we were in the midst of our investigation.”

“Wasn’t it Professor Duncan?” Daniel, another student on Olivia’s team, says. “I’d hardly call him esteemed.”

“No contributions from the peanut gallery,” Jeff says.

Olivia seems lost for a bit, biting the corner of her lip and staring intently at her notes. “Um, I think, if this were a real courtroom, I’d submit evidence now. The pages from the binder that corroborate Miss Edison’s first two stories.”

Jeff nods. “I’d say that’s a good move.”

Oliva grins, clearly proud of herself, and lets out a long sigh of relief. “How would you respond to the speculation that your binder could be interpreted as a trophy?”

“Well that’s not really—” Jeff starts, but Annie cuts him off.

“No, that’s fine. I’ll respond to the question.”

There’s an air of haughtiness in her voice that catches Jeff’s attention. He tilts his head at her in question, but she’s returned her focus to Olivia.

“My goal has always been to make Greendale a better, safer place for students and staff. I understand how the binder could be misconstrued as boasting, but my detailed coverage of the Bandit’s crimes was selflessly gathered in the name of justice.”

Okay, maybe he’s being paranoid, but Annie’s answer comes off as practiced. Momentarily forgetting that he’s supposed to be _teaching_ the class, Jeff cuts off Olivia’s next question. “While it’s certainly true that you usually have Greendale’s best interests in mind, your methods aren’t always selfless,” he points out. “Let’s not forget the time you almost sold out the dean to improve your chances of transferring to a better school. Or how you let Pierce bribe you into making a mockery of the aforementioned anti-drug skit.”

“There were extenuating circumstances,” Annie says indignantly, spinning in her chair to face him. “And what exactly are you accusing me of?”

“I’m not accusing you of anything. But you _are_ acting really defensive.”

“Um,” Olivia shifts her weight from one foot to the other. “Should I go sit down now?”

They both ignore her.

“You know I wasn’t the Ass Crack Bandit. I physically couldn’t have done it.”

Jeff stands to pace in front of Annie’s chair, and Olivia scuttles back to her desk. “Well, no, that’s not exactly true, is it? You couldn’t cover the distance between crackings without a shortcut. But you knew about the faculty lounge. I mean, I know that was originally grounds to suspect someone on staff, but it’s not like the room is impenetrable. Especially not to someone of your intelligence and resourcefulness.”

“What, exactly, are you accusing me of?” Annie repeats.

She stares intently at him, her jaw set stubbornly. He tries to read the flickers of emotion in her eyes when suddenly her eyelashes start fluttering and her lips start to quiver.

“Oh my god,” Jeff gasps. “ _You_ were the Ass Crack Bandit.”

“Yes, okay! I did it. I did it for stupid, selfish reasons and it got out of hand.”

The class exhales a collective sharp breath, and Annie runs from the room, leaving her backpack and a stunned silence behind her.

“Holy shit,” Jeff says after a moment. “Uh, class dismissed. We’ll talk about this on Thursday.”

Not about to argue with an early dismissal, the students gather their things and start putting the room back to normal. Jeff grabs his briefcase and Annie’s bag and runs into the hall, ready to scour campus to find her.

But she hasn’t traveled very far, sitting on the floor outside the classroom.

Jeff sinks down next to her, but she won’t look at him.

“Well,” he starts, unsure what to say. “That was…wow.”

“Do you think I’m a terrible person?”

“Annie, a couple quarters down people’s pants does not a terrible person make. I’m a little confused, though.”

She finally turns to look at him and the first thing Jeff notices are the tear tracks on her cheeks. Instinctively, he brushes his thumb along the damp skin. She leans into his touch and closes her eyes.

“It started at that budget meeting I mentioned. I don’t even remember what gave me the idea, but things weren’t going well and I kind of freaked out. And then, during the student election, it seemed like an easy talking point.”

“And last year’s investigation?” he asks, lowering his voice as the students start to file out of the classroom. They step over his long, outstretched legs, and he glares to deter any lingering.

Annie snorts, self-deprecating, and opens her eyes again. “You really can’t think of any reason I might have brought the Bandit back to life?”

Jeff cocks an eyebrow, and he feels like an ass even asking the question. “Did you crack Troy just to get close to me?”

Annie wrinkles her nose at his choice of words. “Yes and no. I guess…so much had changed since we all graduated, and we were having such a hard time fitting each other into our new schedules. You weren't answering your phone _at all_." Jeff remembers being scared that practicing law again would turn him back into first-year Jeff, and he couldn't stand the idea of letting his friends down. Then he'd been ashamed for cutting them off for so long that, even when they stopped trying to call him, he couldn't bring himself to reach out. "When the opportunity presented itself to team up and spend time together solving a crime…well, I was kind of, I don't know, _hungry_ for it. So I orchestrated the ACB’s most effective reign of terror yet.”

He has a ton more questions, but she looks so mortified, like she's waiting for him to yell or leave or something. So he squelches his curiosity. “I have to say, I’m…flattered.”

She gives him a skeptical look.

“No, really,” he says. “I mean, if I weren’t so emotionally crippled, we could have been doing this,” he gestures between them, “years ago. It’s not your fault you felt like you needed to make up crazy scenarios to spend time with me. So I choose to be flattered.”

"You're not emotionally crippled," she rolls her eyes, her face relaxing into a small smile, and Jeff lets out a sigh of relief.

"I think every person I've ever met would disagree."

"It's a good thing my opinion's the only one that matters, then."

Jeff smirks and kisses the tip of Annie's nose. "That's true."

She grins back at him, but something occurs to her and the smile droops. “I don’t think the group’s going to be as forgiving.”

“What, like they haven’t done crazy shit in the name of hijinks? It’ll blow over.”

She nods after a moment and then rests her head on his shoulder. He kisses her, inhaling the smell of her shampoo.

“And you’re sure this doesn’t make you want to run for the hills?” she checks.

Jeff scoffs. “Oh, please. I always knew a life with Annie Edison meant a life of constant surprise. But, just so we’re clear, you’re not hiding any other nefarious secret identities from me, are you?”

“That depends…”

“On?”

“Whether you want that darkest timeline fantasy of yours to ever become reality.”

He perks up. “Don’t you tease me.”

Annie smirks, crawling into his lap right there in the middle of the hallway, and kisses him till his head spins.

###

“I just hold this down, and I’ll be broadcast over all the speakers in the school?” Annie asks.

The dean nods enthusiastically and claps his hands together. “This is so exciting. The students who gather to boo me as I get out of my car in the morning might even take the week off after hearing the good news.”

Annie winks at him, takes a sip of water, and clears her throat. Then she breathes in and presses the beige, rectangular button.

“Good morning, Greendale Human Beings! Annie Edison here with an announcement many of you will be pleased to hear.

"As you know, the Save Greendale Committee has been hard at work raising money for the school, and, at the end of the year, we’re holding a student showcase. In essence, we’re giving you the chance to show off your work, be it a term paper you’ve been writing or research you’ve been conducting. You bring your best and we’ll fill the cafeteria with leading academics and innovators in your field. We’re going to earn the money you need to work with all the resources available at any four-year university. We’re going to help you lay the groundwork for your futures, your careers.

“In order to reserve a table display in the cafeteria on the night of, I need interested students to fill out the form that can be found in the lobby newsstands of every building on campus. Please return completed forms to Jeff Winger’s faculty mailbox.

“Since we need money to make the showcase a success, we’re holding a fundraiser. You guys voted, and we listened. So prepare your paintball guns, everyone, because we’re playing a game of Paintball Assassin on March 22nd!” She pauses when cheers erupt in the halls. Once the loudest of the ruckus is over, Annie continues, “Starting at 10:00am, you can come to the Hawthorne Manor—see any Save Greendale Committee member for the address and directions—and pay the $10 entrance fee for a chance to win the game.

“Your objective will be to take out any and all of the nine members of the Save Greendale Committee, including Dean Pelton, before we take you out. The game will continue so long as players are still in action.

“There are a few rules you must keep in mind or you will be tossed out of the arena. First, the manor has been graciously donated for our use; keep the vandalism in check. Second, bring as much ammo as you like. Once you run out, you will have to pay $1 for a case of ten pellets at our designated check-in area or hope you’re lucky enough to stumble upon the reserves that will be hidden throughout the arena. Third, please avoid shooting people in the face. Finally—and this is more a suggestion than a rule—you have plenty of time to prepare. Get creative in your approach. We know we will.

“Finally, we're giving you the opportunity to cut your entrance fee in half by staying after the game to help clean up. See me, Annie Edison, if you have any questions.

“We hope to see you on March 22nd.”

###

Jeff and Annie have been dating for seventy-six days.

He knows he's a total sap for knowing that, but he's been keeping track almost by accident.

Every morning when he wakes up to an impossibly cute text message from her or—even better—Annie in his bed, warm and naked and the only person in the world who makes bedhead look sexy, he feels intensely grateful.

But, in the midst of marveling at how he's the luckiest person in the whole goddamn world, insecurities creep up on him.

Like, what if she decides their age difference is too limiting someday? Or what if she realizes that he's a loser in a shitty job and he's pretty much reached the end of the line as far as his career goes?

What if he does or says something stupid or offensive that makes her leave forever?

They're haunting questions, but Jeff's doing a pretty good job of not dwelling on them. (A pretty good job for him, that is.)

So when his stomach starts gurgling with dread and his anxiety betrays him, Jeff just reminds himself that it's been _x_ number of days and she's still with him, still loves him. Every day the number is higher and more comforting.

Today that number is seventy-six.

"How many more places are we going to look at?" Troy whines from the backseat of the Lexus, and Jeff is jarred back to reality. He tugs his gaze away from Annie—in the passenger seat rewriting her notes in different colored pens according to her special system—just in time to see the traffic light change to green.

"There are three left on the list," Annie answers without looking up.

"But I'm tired and hungry and the rain soaked through my shoes and socks so my feet are all pruned."

"What are you," Jeff says, "101 Dalmatians?"

"No," Troy crosses his arms and pouts out his lower lip. "But I don't want to look at any more apartments. They're all stupid and have too much space and I'm distracted so I can't properly picture what it'd be like to live in any of them. Why did we do this the _day before paintball_?"

Jeff pokes Annie in the arm as he obeys his GPS's command to merge onto the highway back toward the center of Greendale. "He has a good point. Why are we doing this when paintball is nigh?"

She rolls her eyes at them. "Because it's just a game and there's no reason to put our lives on hold for it." Troy gasps as though Annie's said something blasphemous. "And because most of the places in your price range are holding open houses today and tomorrow. We’re obviously not going tomorrow, so.”

“We shouldn’t be going today,” Troy says. “We have to strategize.”

“We’ll get back just in time for the group strategy meeting,” Annie assures. “These last three places are much closer to town."

"Abed still has no idea this is happening, right? He hasn’t asked you any leading questions? Snuck up on you in the shower for an ambush?"

"No," Annie taps her pink pen against her lips. "But if you keep acting all twitchy every time he asks you how you're doing, he might start."

Troy ignores her, nervously kicking the back of Jeff's seat. "You didn’t see him trailing us when we left this morning, did you? I tried to watch for his car, but most cars look the same. And they're all colors the ground can be: sand-colored, rock-colored, wet grass-colored." He ticks them off on his fingers.

"I've been very sneaky," Annie assures. "I've even been clearing my search history after I look up anything real-estate-related. But I still say you should talk to him. It'll be really obvious when you move out, and I think he'll be more hurt if you disappear without telling him than if you face this head-on."

"Dear, sweet Annie," Troy leans forward in his seat to place a hand on her shoulder. "Leave the handling of Abed to me." Jeff snorts and glances over in time to catch Annie pointedly cocking an eyebrow at Troy. "That's not what I meant!" he says, flustered, and sits back again.

"Do whatever you want," Annie turns in her seat to look back at Troy, "but don't be surprised when I have my 'I Told You So' moment."

"Don't be surprised when Abed doesn't care enough to even react."

Annie shoots Jeff a worried look at the same time he rolls his eyes, exasperated, in her direction.

"I don't think—" Jeff starts.

Troy huffs and cuts him off. "Can we talk about something else?"

Thankfully, Annie saves Jeff from having to come up with anything. “I’m actually really excited to see the next place. The realtor handling the property is a real up-and-comer who only shows unique spaces. I think you’re going to like it.”

"I hope so because then we can go home," Troy grumps.

"Uh-huh," Jeff says, sharing a meaningful look with Annie. And then the conversation is effectively over.

Thankfully, they only have to endure another five minutes of Troy grumbling agitatedly in the backseat before Jeff pulls up to an industrial-grey brick building strategically covered with moss and vines. He parallel parks on the street and tugs the hood of his jacket up over his hair so it won't get wet in the constant drizzle.

The lobby of the building is expansive with a high ceiling and marble floors. Jeff watches Annie's own hood fall back as she strains her neck to look up at the ritzy chandelier.

"Whoa," Troy says, his voice echoing in all the empty space. "Are you sure I can afford this?"

"Rent is definitely on the higher end of the range you gave me, but we're looking at a studio apartment here, which is cheaper by design."

"I'm going to live like Eloise," Troy muses, staring wide-eyed at his own reflection in the polished floor.

"That's not a bad idea; we _should_ get a nanny to keep an eye on you," Jeff quips.

"I'll have endless adventures anyway."

"Yes, that is essentially the plot of the _Eloise_ franchise," Annie says. "C'mon, the apartment's on the fourth floor."

Even the elevator is excessive and every surface is shiny and reflective. Jeff stoops down to hug Annie from behind and whisper in her ear, "It's too bad we're not alone. I've always wanted the bragging rights that come with pulling off sex in an elevator."

She meets the reflection of his gaze and winks.

"I can hear you, you know."

"Sorry, Troy," they apologize in unison.

The fourth-floor hallway is covered in plush raspberry-colored carpet, and Jeff's feet sink deep into the material every time he takes a step. Annie leads them down the hall to apartment 408. The door is propped open, so they venture inside.

A tall, blonde woman in a fitted pantsuit nods at them and holds up a manicured finger to indicate she'll be with them soon before turning her attention back to a polished couple in their thirties.

“Damn,” Troy nods his head, wandering further into the room and turning around to take it all in. The wall across from the entrance is lined with three inviting windows—one with a padded window seat that overlooks the street—while the parallel-running wall is lined with burnished dark wood cubbies. The two other walls feature exposed brick, and the center of the room is open and cozy. Two sets of stairs cut into the wall of cubbies and lead up to two different platforms. The one closest to the door leads up to the bedroom, a wrought iron railing strategically placed to keep sleepers from accidentally wandering off the edge. A fireplace is built into the brick wall below the bedroom platform. The second raised area is a kitchen, equipped with a sleek, silver refrigerator and a dishwasher. “This room is fit for a _Beastmaster_.”

“I know you’re preserving Pierce’s legacy and all, but maybe let things like that die with him. Please. For the love of all that is holy.”

“I don’t know,” Annie shrugs, “I miss some of the more innocuous Pierce-isms.”

Jeff grins skeptically at her, and Troy rushes over to wrap his arms around her. “I’m sorry I was so grumpy earlier. This place is the best and I love it and I love you.”

She hugs him back. “Well, hang on. Let’s get the tour before we make any life-changing decisions.”

As if on cue, the couple leaves with mumbled ‘thanks’ and the real estate agent hones her attention in on Jeff. “Well hello there, sir. My name is Courtney Chase. What can I do for you?” Ms. Chase’s eyes sweep over his body and Jeff immediately checks to see if Annie's noticed.

She did.

“Jeff Winger,” he says. “And this is Troy Barnes. He’s actually the one interested in leasing the place.”

“Hmm.” Ms. Chase quirks an eyebrow at Jeff before turning her megawatt smile on Troy.

“This place is so cool. It’s totally the set for an indie movie with a lot of sex scenes and really introspective characters. And that wall can display my bobblehead collection!”

“It has a certain charm, yes." Ms. Chase tilts her head and sizes Troy up. "We’ll need to run a credit check and review your application before anything is finalized, of course, but would you like the grand tour?”

Troy agrees, and the realtor starts leading them around the space, pointing out selling points and making a lot of suggestive comments about the shower and the window seat and the bedroom while looking directly at Jeff. And, is it just him, or is she handling her pen in the most obscene way possible?

By the time they’ve made it to the kitchen—and Ms. Chase is wrapping up her spiel—Annie’s gripping his forearm so tightly (possessively?) that he’s certain her nails have left marks.

“So,” Ms. Chase grins slickly at Troy after she finishes telling him about the merits of the farmhouse sink, “Impressive, right?”

“I want it. Can I get it Annie? Can I, can I?"

"It's your money," Annie smiles fondly and pats Troy on the cheek. "Let's fill out an application."

Ms. Chase directs them to the kitchen table and Annie sits next to Troy to make sure he fills everything out correctly.

"So, Mr. Winger," Ms. Chase stands next to him at the head of the table and sucks on the tip of her pen, "are you sure I can't interest you in anything?"

He scoots a few inches away, and—damn if this woman isn't weirdly aggressive—Ms. Chase follows.

Is he being punked?

"I'm quite satisfied with my current…living arrangements," Jeff says, glancing over at Annie. She's either totally oblivious—too busy arguing with Troy about what his social security number is—or really good at listening discreetly.

Ms. Chase studies Annie with narrowed eyes. "I see. Well, in case you're ever looking for some new satisfaction, here's my card."

Jeff tries to refuse it by waving her off, but Ms. Chase slides the paper rectangle into the breast pocket of Jeff's raincoat. "Um, great," he manages.

After Annie and Troy finish up, Ms. Chase leads the trio to the door and wishes them well, going so far as to wink at Jeff as they walk into the hallway.

"That was weird," Jeff says as soon as they're in the elevator.

"What was?" Annie asks, smiling up at him and hooking her finger in a belt loop on Jeff's pants to pull him toward her.

"Ms. Chase," he prompts. Annie raises her eyebrows, confused. "Coming on to me."

"Oh," she shrugs. "I don't know. You _are_ a very attractive man."

Jeff gapes as the elevator opens in the lobby. He lets Annie drag him across the marble floor to the front entrance. The drizzling has stopped, but the rain clouds are pervasive and the world is trapped in a gloomy grey. "You weren't bothered at all?" he asks.

Annie laughs and says, "No," matter-of-factly.

He should feel relieved, right? But Jeff's stomach bottoms out and he gnaws at the corner of his lip.

Huh.

###

For some reason, Jeff can't drop the fact that Ms. Chase was flirting with him and brings it up again as they drive back to the apartment.

"But it was so forceful. I mean, come on, what was that pen thing about?"

"Dude, this is a weird fixation. Even for you," Troy says.

"So you're saying it didn't seem absurd or intense? Neither of you thought something was off?"

"She was definitely coming on strong," Annie allows. "But who cares, right? You'll most likely never see her again."

"Oh, I know a leading question when I hear one. You think I was interested, don't you?"

Annie feels her eyebrows come together with concern and rubs Jeff's thigh. "Are you feeling okay, honey?"

Jeff growls instead of answering.

"You know you can talk to me about what's going on in that head of yours." She scratches her nails through the soft hair at the back of Jeff's neck affectionately.

He sighs and leans back into the touch. "Never mind. We should forget about it, right?"

Annie nods. "Definitely."

They get back to the apartment an hour before the strategy meeting is supposed to start, but Britta, Chang, and the dean are already there, poring over blueprints of Pierce's mansion with Abed.

"Hey," Abed greets. "Where have you guys been?"

"Certainly not looking at apartments, that's for sure," Troy says, too loud.

"Smooth," Jeff snarks.

Annie shoots them both a look. "I had, um, a dentist's appointment," she improvises. "I asked Troy and Jeff to come along for moral support. We didn't ask you to come because I know the smell of fluoride makes you sick."

Abed doesn't look entirely convinced, but he shrugs. "Cool. Cool cool cool."

"How often do you go to the dentist?" Dean Pelton asks. "I've always thought you have very nice teeth, and often wonder about the maintenance."

"Aww," Annie smiles brightly, flattered. "I know it's a pain, but flossing every day really does help."

"No way," Chang says. "I exclusively use mouthwash, and _my_ teeth are perfectly healthy."

He smiles in Britta’s face and she pushes him away. "Your breath smells like that time Susie B. crawled under my couch to die but I didn't find her body for three days."

"One day there will be no toothpaste," he insists ominously. "Only mouthwash."

"Okay then. I'm going to call Shirley and Duncan and let them know to come over early. Jeff, could you order pizza for everyone?" Annie asks.

"Sure thing, Chandler Bing."

Annie laughs as she dials Shirley's cell.

Britta flashes her a thumbs-up and says, "I'll call Duncan." Annie waggles her eyebrows, and Britta sticks out her tongue.

"Hello," Shirley sing-songs when she answers the phone.

"Hey. Most everyone came over early, so if you're not already on your way over, might as well come now."

"Is that right?"

Annie narrowly avoids snorting at the obvious passive-aggression in Shirley's voice. "It just kind of happened," she says. "See you soon?"

"Uh-huh," Shirley clucks.

Twenty minutes later, when the pizza, Shirley, and Duncan have arrived, Abed takes command of the group.

"Okay people. In seventeen hours we will be in the heat of battle, facing trials of wit and physical endurance."

"Huzzah!" Troy interjects.

"Since Troy lived there for a while, I figured he can take us through the all the secret passageways and rooms in Hawthorne Manor that we can use to our advantage."

Troy salutes Abed, businesslike, and then draws everyone's attention to the blueprints. He talks for nearly forty minutes, outlining the purpose of each room and offering random facts he had to remember for Pierce's roommate test.

And then Britta gets a slice of pizza and everything goes to hell.

"Ew, fuck, get it off, get it off," she screeches, spitting into a napkin and scraping at her tongue.

"What's wrong?" Shirley asks.

"There was a pepperoni under the cheese, waiting to ambush me. Ugh, shit, this is nasty. Annie, can I use your toothbrush? I _have_ to get this taste out of my mouth."

"Gross." Annie wrinkles her nose. "You barely even chewed it. Just suck on a mint or something."

"There's gum in the pocket of my coat," Jeff says.

"I can't believe you'd insult pepperoni like that," Troy shakes his head.

'Whoa," Britta comes back to the table holding Ms. Chase's calling card, gum forgotten. "Whatcha got here, Winger?"

Troy shoots Annie a panicked look.

"Uh…"

"Are you and Annie looking for a place together?" she guesses.

Shirley gasps and Abed's eyes get wide.

"What?" Annie squawks, "No! _No_. We were, you know, at the dentist's office. And, uh, this realtor lady was hitting on Jeff and gave him her card."

"And you're just okay with that?" Britta asks, getting that gleam in her eyes that means she thinks she's found another person to therapize.

"Yeah," Jeff turns to Annie. "You're just okay with that?"

"I thought we were going to forget about this," Annie says pointedly.

"I mean, since the subject came up naturally, why not discuss it some more?"

"Because there's nothing to discuss."

"You think I enjoyed it, don't you? That I led her on, invited her advances."

Annie looks around the table. Everyone is watching them intently. "This really isn't the place to be having this conversation," she points out.

Duncan, who retrieved the piece of pizza Britta bit into, says, "You're not bothering us. Please, carry on with your domestic row."

"Why are you, _Annie_ , she who ran through a glass door after not winning a silly high-school award, being so calm about this?"

She gasps and recoils, hurt. "Is that was this is about?" Her voice rises. "You need me to feel jealous so I can validate you?"

"Yes!" Jeff shouts back at her, his voice cracking a little.

And just like that, the anger is gone. Annie deflates. "Oh."

Jeff's right leg starts bouncing and he won't look her—or anyone—in the eye.

"Excuse us," Annie says, grabbing Jeff's hand and tugging him into her bedroom.

"Come on," she hears Chang say. "Let's listen at the door."

Annie rolls her eyes and sits down on the bed next to Jeff. "So."

"So," he repeats, his entire body angled away from her.

Annie gently grabs his chin and encourages him to look at her. "I love you," she says fiercely.

Jeff gulps and finally looks her in the eye. "I love you, too."

"Okay, good. Do you want me to explain why I wasn't jealous?"

Jeff nods and purses his lips. "And maybe cut back on the condescending tone."

She huffs a laugh. "Jeff, you were so clearly _not_ interested in her. I wasn't jealous because you didn't give me a reason to be jealous."

He considers this. "Huh. Go me." He's quiet for a bit longer, and when he talks again his voice is low. "But shouldn't you have been, I don't know, even a little miffed at _her_?"

Annie smiles softly and cups Jeff's cheek with her hand. He covers it with his own. "I _was_. But Troy definitely wasn't going to get that apartment if I had started fighting the agent in charge of showing it. So I sent her some nonverbal signals."

Jeff grins. "So if she hadn't been showing an apartment that Troy wants, you would have fought her?"

"Oh yeah. There would have been a total smackdown."

"What are we talking here, pillow fight? Tub of Jell-O?"

"Gross, Jeff." Annie smacks his chest. He catches her hand and kisses the pad of each finger. "We're good?" she checks.

"We're good," he confirms.

"Uh, guys?" Britta bursts into the room. "You didn't whisper quietly enough."

Annie's about to question what the hell Britta means by that when she hears Abed ask in a loud, clipped tone. "Are you or are you not planning to move out?"

"Come on, Ab—"

" _Are you_ ," Abed's voice is colder and even flatter than usual, "or are you not planning to move out?"

Troy sighs and rubs at the back of his neck. "I am."

Without another word, Abed turns on his heel, walks into his bedroom, and slams the door behind him. Troy stands in the center of the room, tears welling and shoulders slumped.

"How 'bout that!" Duncan looks at the watch on his wrist. "It's time for Craig, Ben, and me to go."

Britta nods thankfully and Annie rushes to Troy's side and starts rubbing his back.

"We're a part of the group," the dean complains as Duncan tugs him out the door.

"Yeah, why can't we stay and see how it ends?" Chang whines.

"See you tomorrow morning," Duncan waves as the door closes.

"You're not going to actually say it, right?" Troy looks weepily at Annie.

"Say what?"

"I told you so."

"Oh, Troy," she pulls him into a hug. "Of course not."

"Abed," Britta knocks at his door. "Come out so we can talk, buddy."

"No. Tell that traitor he ruined paintball and our friendship. Forever."

"Surely you don't mean that," Shirley says. "Forgiveness is divine, Abed."

"Well, despite popular opinion, I'm not a god," he responds through the door.

"Popular opinion?" Shirley questions indignantly.

At the same time Troy shouts, "Yeah, exactly! You can't just control people's lives like you own them."

Abed bursts back out into the common room. Annie can see the hurt and anger in his eyes and the in the way his mouth is twisted in a tiny grimace. Her stomach jumps in response. "You want to talk about control? Good, let's talk about control. Every time you leave, I lose mine."

Troy rolls his eyes and a big, wet tear rolls down his cheek. "Right, you're such a loose cannon."

"When you sacrificed your life to the AC Repair school to save the dean I was almost dominated by Evil!Abed. I almost killed Jeff with a bone saw."

"Okay, I have no recollection of this and it makes me really uncomfortable when you say that," Jeff interjects. Annie elbows him in the stomach.

"But you came back. I thought that darkness was behind me. Except then you decided to leave me again, this time to travel around the entire world. Do you remember what Jeff said? He could have found a loophole in Pierce's will. You could have let him read it. You could have still gotten rich without having to go. But instead you chose to leave. And I went to another dark place." He gets more heated with every sentence, his voice measured and intense. "And now I find out that you’re planning to leave me _again_. You know me better than anyone else—you’re my _best friend_ —and you’re always leaving. Do you know how despicable that makes me feel?"

Abed’s eyes go wide and he falls into a chair at the kitchen table, covering his face with his hands.

A stunned silence pervades the room.

Troy is the first to recover, moving to sit next to Abed at the table. “I only left because I love you so much.”

Annie whips her head around to look at Jeff, who seems as surprised as she feels. Shirley gasps audibly, and Britta smiles, tears pooling in her eyes.

“I know when Pierce said my life was consumed by another man he didn’t mean Clive Owen. I know he was talking about you. And I guess I was afraid that he was right. Like, what if I didn’t have an identity outside of being one half of Trobed? While I was away, though, I was so miserable. I felt like that bird Paulie from the movie _Paulie_.”

“The cinematography in that movie is excellent,” Abed says, the sound muffled by his hands.

"It is,” Troy agrees. He reaches out tentatively to place a hand on Abed’s shoulder. “The whole time I was gone, I just wanted to return to you. Or have you come join me to experience all the cool things I got to. And that’s when I realized _so what_? So what if my identity is one-half Abed. People are always going on about finding the one person they want to spend their life having adventures with, and I already did. But I left him, so I’m sorry about that. You’re my best friend, too, and when I came back it seemed like you didn’t need me anymore. So I kinda freaked out.”

Abed finally pulls his hands away from his face, and Annie feels a lump form in her throat. She’s never seen him cry before, but his cheeks are wet and his eyes are rimmed red.

“I forgive you,” he says after a moment. “For leaving. And I’m sorry for making you feel unwelcome. There’s always room in my cast for you.”

“Thanks. I love you, Abed.”

Abed nods. “I love you, Troy. Can we be best friends again?”

Troy holds his hands out in position for their handshake. Abed grins and then slaps his chest as well as Troy’s outstretched hand.

“You guys,” Britta sniffles. “I am so good at making you open up.”

“Actually,” Jeff starts to correct her, but Annie gives him a look and mouths _just let her have this_. He rolls his eyes and then holds his arms out. “Bring it in, everybody.”

They all huddle together for a group hug.


	12. 3d of 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Word Count:** 9,875  
>  **Disclaimer:** These characters belong to Dan Harmon, etc., etc. I simply enjoy manipulating them.  
>  **Author's Note:** I've missed everything about posting, including coming up with a fun way to thank Bethany for being the fantastic human and beta that she is. So, yeah, I have undying appreciation for how quickly she edits my work and her suggestions, which are awesome without exception. The title comes from a Four Star Mary song called "She Knows." 
> 
> Hi everyone! Long time, no fic, right? So, this chapter isn't even the entire paintball adventure. As you may have noticed, this section is already pretty long, so I decided the two parts merited their own chapter. Though I cannot reasonably promise to have the second half posted in a week, I can assure you that it'll be out sooner than this was. Thank you all for your patience. I hope you like the first half of paintball!

Hawthorne Manor gives Jeff the heebie-jeebies. Maybe it's because he knows Pierce had sex there. Maybe it's because he knows Pierce's _parents_ had sex there. But, whatever the reason, just looking at the imposing structure (despite the picturesque way the early morning sun is shining over the building's left-most turret) makes his stomach flip-flop and his skin crawl.

"You okay?" Annie pops her head out from behind the open trunk of his car where she's unloading her guns.

Jeff shakes off the feeling and walks over to join her. "I was just cataloguing a clear mental 'before' picture for the lawsuit."

She huffs. "For the last time, Hawthorne Manor isn't going to be destroyed."

He jabs her side in jest. "Wanna bet?"

"Depends on what the winner gets." She grins cheekily and smoothly loads a clip of paintballs into a gun.

She looks especially sexy decked out in clandestine paintball garb: black tights, jean shorts, a black camisole top edged in lace under an unbuttoned black and gray plaid flannel (one of his old ones), and worn black sneakers with pink laces. Her hair is twisted into a messy bun, she’s rolled the sleeves of his shirt up to her elbows, and she's used black face paint to draw a thick line under each of her eyes. (Which she made him do, too, despite the impassioned plea he made for his sensitive skin.) A utility belt that has two gun holsters and is loaded down with extra paintballs completes the look.

"Oral sex?" he suggests.

Annie chuckles. "We both get that anyway." Then her eyes rake over his own outfit: dark grey cargo pants and a skin-tight black henley that's kinda old, so he won't mind if it gets destroyed. Earlier in the week, when they'd planned their outfits, she'd insisted they match in some way, so he has a folded bandanna with a similar design as the flannel tied around his head. "But I'd be open to other sex-related prizes."

“Winner gets to pick a position or situation?”

“Interesting,” she lets a sly smile unfurl. “Deal.”

After they shake on it, Jeff says, “I am so going to win.”

Annie shoves her arms through a back sling she made herself from old backpack straps and a cut-up t-shirt last night after everyone who didn’t live at the apartment had gone home and hands him the tiger-printed gun. “Can you put this in place?” she asks, turning around. As he deftly secures the gun—the handle poking over her left shoulder for easy access—she adds, “And while I admire your optimism, history suggests that I’ll destroy you.”

“True, but I think the odds are in my favor this time. You asked the school mascot to referee. The Human Being is practically blind, Annie.”

She rolls her eyes. “They’ll mostly be watching security cameras, and they don’t have to show up in costume.”

He shrugs.

While he loads himself down with guns and ammunition, Annie walks to the end of the driveway to set up a sandwich board with parking directions. Shirley, Britta, and Duncan arrive in Shirley’s van with the registration table, which is dusty and heavy and requires most of them to lug it inside.

Earlier in the week, Annie had met with Gilbert to help remove any breakable, precious family heirlooms, as well as board up the windows close to the ground to keep the destruction to a minimum. Very little sunlight creeps in around the edges of the plywood, so most of the rooms are cast entirely in shadow.

The overall effect is eerie.

Well, eeri _er_.

As the group sets up the table, Abed, Rachel, and Troy arrive.

“Oh, good, you’re here,” Annie pounces on Rachel, who volunteered to collect money from people. “We should go over the process.”

“I’m taking ten dollars from everyone who comes through the door before they’re released into the arena, thirsty for ritual sacrifice and intent on your death by paint pellets, no?”

Abed gives her a thumbs-up. Jeff eyes Rachel warily.

“It’s a teensy bit more complicated than that,” Annie says, her voice squeaky with barely-contained neuroticism. “Let me walk you through it?”

Rachel agrees and listens intently as Annie breaks down the process more thoroughly than is really necessary.

Once she’s done, she turns the group. “Well, I think everything is ready.”

“We don’t need to hide paintball pellets around this place for people to find?” Britta asks as Dean Pelton and Chang arrive.

“I already did,” Annie says. “It’s not fair if the whole group knows where they’re hidden. You guys would be too tempted to take them.”

“Hey!” Jeff and Britta protest.

Abed considers and then nods.

“That’s fair,” Troy says.

“I’m a Christian woman," Shirley says. "You know I don’t steal.”

Annie rolls her eyes. “Complain all you guys want. If you come across the paintballs, you’re free to take them. But I won’t reveal their location.”

“I think that’s a fair decision, Annie.” The dean links his arms through hers. “These guys get so greedy during these games. But, you know, I am often bullied into supply closets or into illegally granting priority registration. Perhaps, if given an advantage…” he raises his eyebrows pointedly.

“I’m not telling you where they are either.” She looks him up and down. “And what the hell are you wearing?”

“Oh, this old thing?” Dean Pelton runs his hands over the bodice of the conspicuous pink and purple superhero costume he has on, complete with a skirt, shiny tights, and a fancy headband. “It was my sister’s.”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Jeff remarks.

"Are you okay?" Shirley asks, drawing everyone’s attention to Chang, who is wearing a black t-shirt, grey sweatpants, and a cast on his arm.

"Oh, this?" Chang holds up his left arm. "This is strictly for defense."

"How'd you even get it if you don't have a broken arm?" Troy asks.

Chang cackles before starting to answer, but Jeff cuts him off.

“It’s just about ten, so let's not open _that_ can of worms. We should get ready for action.”

“Traveling in one big team will make us easy targets,” Abed says. “I propose we split into groups of two.”

“Divide and conquer. I like it.” Duncan salutes him.

“Abed and I brought walkie-talkies so we can stay in contact, call for help, and tell Rachel when to order pizza,” Troy unzips the fanny pack resting on his hip and pulls out five of the devices. Rachel holds up her own, winking at Troy.

“Obviously Troy and I will be a team,” Abed says.

“It’s going to be like make-up sex! But instead of having a lot of orgasms, we’re going to have a lot of adventures.”

“Ha! _Gaaaayy_.” Everyone stares at Chang and he hangs his head. “Yeah, that felt cheap to me, too.”

Duncan turns to Britta, looking hopeful. “Partners?”

“Totally! Let’s get into these fuckers’ minds and expose their deepest fears.”

“Dirty warfare,” Duncan nods in approval. “We’ll have them on their knees, sobbing and begging to be picked off.”

“Let’s not set out to make anyone cry,” Dean Pelton says, handling his own paintball gun delicately.

“You’re just saying that because it’s so easy to make _you_ cry,” Britta retorts.

“Is not,” the dean replies petulantly.

“Your father felt emasculated having you as a son,” Duncan says.

“You don’t know my life!” Craig shouts, instantly dissolving into tears. “I am my own man; I don’t need my father’s approval!”

“And that’s how you do that,” Britta crows, holding out her hands for a double low-five.

“I’ve got your back,” Chang says, patting the dean on the ass. “You two use psychoanalysis of other people to avoid dealing with your own problems!”

“Duh-doy,” Britta scoffs.

“Duh-doy, indeed,” Duncan agrees.

“Well, I pick Jeff as my partner,” Annie says.

“Team Wedison!” Jeff holds out his hand for a high-five, which Annie reciprocates before interlocking their fingers and transitioning gracefully into a spin. Then she twirls into his chest and hops into his arms, kissing him enthusiastically on the mouth.

“Gross, you two,” Britta shields her eyes in disgust.

“Yeah, get it!” Troy says.

“You should remember that Jesus is watching you,” Shirley says disapprovingly.

“I love a good spin combination,” the dean sighs dreamily.

“Did you guys rehearse that?” Abed asks.

“Maybe,” Annie answers as she pulls back from the kiss. Jeff pecks the lobe of her ear when she turns to look back at the group.

"I guess I'll be playing alone then," Shirley says cloyingly.

"You can be on our team," the dean offers, throwing his arm around Chang, who pumps his fist, accidentally throwing his cast into Craig's stomach, who doubles over. "Okay, that hurt."

"Imagine taking one of those to the balls," Chang grins menacingly.

"I guess I'll be playing alone then," Shirley says again—this time with no hint of irritation—her nostrils flared.

There are four levels to Hawthorne Manor: the uppermost floor (which is mostly servants' quarters, all decorated with unnerving Confederate propaganda), the second level (which houses Pierce's old room, the library, and Cornelius’s old room), the first floor (which has a kitchen, an expansive dining room complete with ridiculous chandelier, a study, and the panic room), and the basement (which Annie says is full of old Hawthorne Wipes products and prototypes, a disturbingly well-stocked sex chamber, and enough relics from Cornelius's life to start a museum). It’s been marked as off-limits to players, for obvious reasons.

Duncan and Britta call dibs on patrol in the second-floor wing with at least three different bedrooms and the library.

Annie gives Jeff a meaningful look as Duncan and Britta high five, and he nods in agreement: they’re totally going to bang.

Troy and Abed insist they’ll handle the serious legwork, sneaking around from room to room in the entire house.

Jeff and Annie take the first floor wing with the study, a more modern work space with an unnecessarily large desktop computer, a sitting room, and the first floor bathroom.

The group condemns Dean Pelton and Chang to the very top level after Chang makes a joke about how Shirley should take the kitchen since she's most comfortable there.

"She _chose_ baking as her identity. She does it every day!" Chang whines defensively after Britta's done berating him.

"Why am I being punished?" the dean adds. “It’s not like I said anything offensive, and it’s going to be very hot up there.”

“Well maybe you should have thought of that before you decided to wear Mylar balloons on your legs to play paintball,” Jeff says.

"But they hug my calves perfectly,” Craig points his right toe, flexing the muscle, to demonstrate.

“Just go, you ninny,” Duncan says.

“I have a proposal,” Abed holds up a finger and turns to Shirley after Chang and the dean head to the stairs. “It involves you climbing a tree.”

“I’m listening,” she lifts her chin and eyes Abed over the bridge of her nose.

“Annie, how clearly do the rules outline the playing arena?”

She shrugs. “I guess they don’t, really. We’re using the Hawthorne Manor property. That’s as specific as they get.”

Abed pumps his fist. “I was hoping you’d say that. You’ve proven yourself to have excellent aim, Shirley. If we hide you in the tree outside the Grand Hall, you can take people out through the window like a sniper.

Shirley coos, “Shirley the Sniper. I like it.”

It takes them five minutes to obtain a ladder and get Shirley camouflaged and situated in the tree. And then it takes another twenty minutes to haul the ladder inside and climb up to the large, round window overlooking the Grand Hall. It kind of reminds Jeff of Aunt Josephine’s house from _A Series of Unfortunate Events_. (He begrudges Annie for making him watch that. He's still having nightmares wherein he's being eaten alive by leeches.)

"There's no hatch," Annie calls down to him and Troy, who’s helping him hold the ladder steady.

"Just break the center," Abed says. "It's a pretty small circle. It can't be that expensive to replace."

"You guys," she protests, "I'm not purposely breaking anything."

"Don't want to add to the inevitable damage?" Jeff guesses.

Annie sticks her tongue out at him.

"Come down if you're not going to do anything," Britta says, rolling her eyes.

When Annie reaches the ground, Britta starts ascending. Annie catches her ankle. "Wait, what are you doing?"

Britta shakes her off and continues up the ladder. "You'll see." Once she reaches the top, Britta punches right through the glass.

"Britta!" Annie yells.

"Oh!" the group hears Shirley exclaim from outside. "That's not nice."

Jeff notices that Britta's knuckles are bleeding when she gets to the floor. "Way to go, Rock 'Em Sock 'Em Britta."

"We have to clean up this glass so nobody steps on it and hurts themselves," Annie looks horrified and furious.

"That was hot," Duncan says.

Troy retrieves a broom so Annie can sweep up the mess, Duncan takes Britta off to a bathroom to clean and wrap her hand, and then, once everything is ready, the pairs spread out in the house.

Jeff glances down at his watch when he and Annie get to their wing for patrol. Annie eases herself around the doorway to the study and then turns around the room brandishing her weapon. “It’s not even 11:00 in the morning, Annie. Nobody’s here. Greendale students aren’t going to wake up before noon on a Saturday.”

“That’s exactly the kind of attitude that’ll get us killed,” she snorts, kicking open a closest. And, okay, it’s really dorky that she’s so methodical about paintball of all things, but she also makes a seriously attractive badass. So Jeff leans in the doorway and admires the show. “I can feel you watching me,” she says, peeking outside through a tiny crack between the plywood and the window frame.

“And?”

“And it’s distracting! What if someone were to ambush us right now, I would be hit for sure. Do you want to be responsible for my paintball death?”

“I’d rather be responsible for your _petite mort_.” She gapes at him from across the room, and he's pretty sure her surprise should offend him. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

Her expression is sultry as she saunters over to where he's still leaning in the doorway. "You're a very sexy man, Jeff Winger, has anyone ever told you that?"

"Well, yes. You're among those people."

" _Jeff_ ," she pouts. "I'm trying to be coquettish here."

He raises his eyebrows. "Coquettish?"

"You know…seductive."

"I know what coquettish means, Annie. I was simply mocking your word choice."

She scoffs. “Would you prefer something more along the lines of ‘me horny, sex now’?” Jeff shrugs and Annie slaps him on the chest. “Well I _was_ all impressed with your knowledge but now you’ve ruined it.”

He smirks down at her. “Five-dollar words and phrases get it done for you, huh?”

She rolls her eyes and ventures back out into the hallway, twirling her gun in her hands. “I find well-spoken people attractive, sure. You must be the exception to the rule.”

“Oh please, I can talk circles around—” Jeff is in the middle of protesting when a _thunk_ sounds down the hall. Annie spins in the direction it came from, her weapon at the ready. Jeff draws a gun, too. “What was that?”

“One way to find out,” she whispers.

They creep down opposite sides of the hall, checking in each room and nodding to each other once they’re sure the coast is clear.

The bathroom is the last door at the end of the hall. It’s closed, and light is shining through the crack at the bottom. Annie raises an eyebrow as if to ask Jeff if he’s ready to do this. In response, he holds up three fingers.

Two….

One!

They slam the door open.

“Troy!” Annie yells. “Why don’t you ever lock the door?”

“Why don’t you ever knock?” Troy screeches, yanking his pants up.

“This is paintball! You could have been the enemy!”

“Do you mind? I’m trying to pee here!”

“God,” she shakes her head as she closes the door. “It’s like he _wants_ people to walk in on him.”

“This has happened before?”

“Uh, duh,” Annie gives him a significant look. “You’re not roommates with someone for the better part of three years without accidentally walking in on some awkward situations.”

Jeff cocks an eyebrow at her.

“Remember the Back Massager Incident of 2012?” Troy asks when he emerges from the bathroom.

“Oh, you really want to go there, mister?” Annie pokes him in the chest.

“I told you I was looking for the clothes iron.”

“In my underwear drawer?” She takes a deep breath, “You know what, we’ve had this argument too many times. Let’s just drop it.”

Jeff eyes Annie. “I’m just guessing here, but that back massager was actually a vibrator, wasn’t it?”

She lowers her eyebrows and scowls at him in response.

Troy nudges Jeff in the side and gives him a wide-eyed nod.

Jeff looks back at Annie in surprise.

“What?” she snaps. “Women masturbate, too. I lived above Dildopolis for more than two years. You think I never went in there? Well surprise! Annie has a libido!”

“That was never in question,” Jeff says under his breath and she shoots him a menacing look.

“Team Wedison?” Abed’s voice crackles over the walkie-talkie. “Come in, Team Wedison.”

Annie unclips the device from her utility belt. “You’re a go for Annie, Team Trobed.”

“Is Troy with you? He ventured into your sector to use the facilities. Over.”

Troy grabs the device out of Annie’s hands. “I’m here and safe, buddy. How are you?”

Jeff and Annie roll their eyes at each other.

“Thrilled. I just visited Rachel and she confirmed players have officially entered the field. Let’s hook up at the giant portrait of Pierce on the second floor. Keep your eyes open, everyone. This is war. Over.”

“Roger,” Troy says into the walkie-talkie. Britta, Shirley, and Craig sound off, too. Troy claps Jeff on the shoulder and hands back Annie’s walkie-talkie. “Be careful out there, you two.”

And then he’s gone.

“So about this vibrator that you own,” Jeff says as soon as Troy’s run off.

“This is serious now, Jeff. We can’t get distracted.”

“It’s a little late for that,” he waggles his eyebrows at her.

She exhales dramatically, but quirks a come-hither eyebrow at him. He takes a few steps toward her until their bodies are pressed together and leans down just enough for his lips to still be out of her reach, teasing her.

“Oh Annie Edison,” a distorted voice taunts, echoing in the high-ceilinged hall.

“What was that?” she whips her head around, pulling away from him.

Jeff groans, frustrated, but readies his weapon and listens intently.

“You strut around like you’re better than everyone, but ask yourself: how impressive it is, really, that you’re excelling at a community college for delinquents and failures?”

“You're clearly a student at the same shitty school," Jeff yells before growling under his breath, "Where is that coming from?”

"Shh," Annie urges him. "I think I might recognize that voice."

"Unfortunately, there's no way to objectively measure intelligence—though we'd definitely beat you if there was—so we'll just have to see who comes out on top in a battle of survival.”

“Because only the fittest survive and there is nothing fit about you!" a different voice adds.

Annie starts creeping back toward the direction of the study, her weapon steady in her hand, following the voice. Jeff takes a moment to admire Annie’s form before falling in step behind her. “I disagree,” he says under his breath.

“That was disgraceful,” the first voice echoes in the hall again, only the sound is muffled. “Give me that.”

"Ouch! No, I want to….” There’s some shuffling and then the second voice yells, impassioned, “We're going to give you what you deserve, Annie Edison: a messy paint bath of failure!”

"Okay, see, that didn't make any sense. Just let me do the talking," the first voice responds, still stifled.

"Come in, Team Wedison," Abed's voice crackles over the walkie-talkie and Annie flinches visibly before turning down the volume. "Do you copy?"

"Affirmative," she hisses into the device, keeping her gun trained ahead of her with her free hand.

Troy's voice says excitedly, "You're being called out."

"Oh really? It had escaped my notice."

"Annie!" Britta joins in the conversation, "We can hear the petty squabble pretty clearly on the second floor, but Duncan and I just made sure the whole level was clear."

"There's no one up here, either" the dean adds needlessly.

"Do you recognize the voice? Over."

"It's too soon to be sure; it sounds like they're using some rudimentary technology to disguise it. I'll page you guys if we need backup. Wedison out."

"Be careful!" Shirley says before Annie turns the volume on the talkie down even lower.

Jeff and Annie slink along the wall, glancing into each room as they pass, but once they near the study it becomes clear that the enemy isn't in their designated wing of Hawthorne Manor.

"I'm guessing you have a plan?" Jeff asks once they're back in the doorway where they began.

“If they’re not on the second floor—though let’s not rule out the possibility that Britta and Duncan got distracted while checking—they’ll likely be somewhere else on this floor.”

“The logic checks. You still want the lead?”

“Well, it is my credibility in question. Apparently.”

He nods and gestures for her to continue, “After you.”

There’s a spacious, circular foyer that connects the wings of the mansion. A staircase to the second floor hugs the curving wall and there’s a landing about halfway up, above which a gigantic painted picture of Cornelius and his wife hangs.

Jeff’s cautiously following Annie along the wall opposite the staircase when she suddenly stops.

He bumps into her and they both flail for a second. “What th—,” Jeff starts to ask, but Annie clamps her palm over his mouth. His eyebrows draw together and he cocks his head to the side. She directs his gaze upward, and he follows her eyes until he’s staring at a bucket perched on the edge of the swinging door that leads to the next wing, pink paint droplets inching down the sides and dripping onto the floor.

She grabs the doorknob and gives an infinitesimal tug. The bucket wobbles.

"A messy paint bath of failure," Annie whispers.

“Is it just me, or is this kind of lame?” Jeff asks.

“Well, the arena hasn’t been open for that long, and it was a backup plan anyway." Jeff and Annie whip around to find Annie Kim, one hand aiming a gun right at Annie's face while the other grips a megaphone. "While I would have been pretty satisfied to watch you stupidly set off the decoy, the first rule of war is to know your enemy. As irritatingly superior as Annie Edison is, she's not an imbecile.”

"Thank you," Annie says in a clipped tone. "But it seems like you overlooked a few details in your plan."

"Such as?"

Annie makes a move to raise her gun but is suddenly grabbed around the shoulders from behind. Her apprehender digs a shooter into her side, and Annie cranes her neck to see who's seized her. "Who're you?" she asks.

At the same time, Jeff sputters incredulously, “Trisha Newcomb?”

"That's right," his student bares her teeth at him and digs the weapon deeper into Annie's side. "Who's an _overly-analytical, mediocre product of the deficient public education system_ now?"

"Both of you," Jeff responds dryly.

"Watch it," Annie Kim drops the megaphone and uses both hands to train her weapon at Jeff. "You don't want to see your little girlfriend here meet her doom, do you?"

Jeff snorts, affecting nonchalance, but glances over at Annie in alarm. She tilts her head slightly and widens her eyes. When he continues to stare at her blankly, Annie mouths _stall_.

Yeah, Jeff can do that.

"So what inspired this heartwarming teamwork?"

Annie Kim laughs. "You two did, of course. Well, it was mostly Edison. She _is_ the worthy opponent in your relationship after all."

"Hey! What's that supposed to mean?"

Annie Kim ignores his outburst. "Of course, I would have never taken Trisha under my wing if you hadn't awoken the angry overachiever within, so you played a vital role, don't worry."

"So, what? You're jealous of Annie and your brilliant plan is to…"

"Eliminate her from paintball!" Trisha says, her eyes gleaming madly.

"Which accomplishes what?"

"Uh…" Trisha and Annie Kim look at each other, dumbfounded.

In that moment, Annie crouches forward and flips Trisha over her shoulders. Trisha hits the ground with a thud and a groan as Annie dives for cover behind a loveseat with an abhorrent flower pattern. Jeff takes refuge behind an armless statue that doesn't actually provide much shelter.

"Are you kidding me?" Annie Kim screeches. "We totally had you!"

"Yeah, well, 'all warfare is based on deception'," Annie quotes as she pops out from behind the loveseat. At the same moment, Jeff takes a shot at Annie Kim, looking to distract her.

Annie Kim dodges the paintball by lunging for Annie, gun at the ready. Annie skirts the dive and starts to run around the room, narrowly avoiding each shot Annie Kim takes at her from where she's now standing on the loveseat.

"Annie, we heard screaming, are you okay?" Britta asks, coming to a skidding halt on the staircase landing with Duncan, Troy, and Abed.

"Peachy," Annie yells, closing in on Jeff's location. If she gets any closer, there's a good chance one of Annie Kim's paintballs will hit him.

As if reading his mind, Annie takes a second to wink at him.

Trisha groans again and leans up on her elbows just in time to see Annie dive toward Annie Kim, slide under the loveseat, roll out behind it, hop to her feet, and then shoot Annie Kim in the back.

"Holy," Abed says.

"Cheese and crackers," Troy finishes.

"Girl power," Britta pumps her fist.

"What's going on?" Shirley's voice sounds over the walkie-talkies.

"I hate you," Annie Kim says before dropping her weapons on the floor and walking away.

Trisha scrambles to her feet and looks over at where Annie's standing. She gives Trisha a dangerous smirk.

With a whimper, Trisha bolts for the door, only to be showered with pink paint when she tugs it open.

The dean and Chang join the rest of the group on the landing.

"What did we miss?" Chang looks down at the foyer below and groans. "Aw, man, it looks like it was awesome."

"It was," Abed assures him.

"Everyone get back to your stations," Annie commands, grabbing Annie Kim's guns and unloading the clips. "There's nothing to see here."

As the group dissipates, Annie walks over to where Trisha's sitting, defeated, in a puddle of paint.

She holds out her hand.

Looking astonished, Trisha clasps it with her own and lets Annie tug her up into a standing position. "Good game," Trisha says after a moment, handing over her guns.

"Thanks. For the record, you really did have me there. Nice form."

Trisha smiles, flattered. "See you in class on Monday, Mr. Winger," she waves as she makes her way back to the front entrance.

Jeff strolls over to where Annie's standing, using a handkerchief from her utility belt to wipe the pink paint off her hand. “Well that was…”

“All in a day’s work?” Annie suggests.

“I was going to say, the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Annie smiles, pleased. “What about that outfit I wore last weekend?”

Jeff hums, remembering. “Good point. Still,” his eyes slide down her body, “that was a very sexy thing you just did.”

“Are you trying to seduce me?” she laughs.

Instead of answering, he places a palm on Annie’s lower back and guides her toward him. She gasps when their bodies come together, and Jeff catches the sound with his lips, kissing her hungrily. Annie gets up on her tip-toes and grips both of Jeff’s shoulders tightly.

He maneuvers his hand under her top and splays his palm against the soft, warm skin there, the fingertips of his pinkie and ring finger dipping under the waistband of her shorts. Annie makes a contented sound in the back of her throat, and Jeff dares to push his hand further.

One of her hands curls around his neck while the other grips a handful of hair and tugs, which sends shockwaves along Jeff’s scalp. He gets his hand past the shorts and tights and squeezes a handful of her ass.

She pulls harder on his hair, angling his head to her liking so she can kiss along his jawline to nip and suck at his earlobe.

“Annie,” Jeff growls, his voice raspy. He hikes her up his body, and Annie obligingly hugs his hips with her thighs, anchoring herself in place.

Jeff stumbles over to the loveseat as she covers his neck in open-mouthed kisses that make him shiver. Once he drops her onto the couch and is hovering over her, though, Annie pushes him away firmly, her hand on his chest. “Jeff, wait.”

“I’m going to go insane if we don't get some kind of release. I won’t be able to focus on the game _at all_ because I'll be too distracted by how hot you are when you're kicking ass. I just need to get it out of my system. Please?” he begs.

“Oh, we’re definitely going to have sex,” she says. “I’d just like to find a…less public location. A room with a locking door, for example.”

He looks around. He’d almost forgotten where they were. “Right. Good plan.”

They try the study and then the sitting room only to find neither room has locks. Frustrated and horny, they end up in the bathroom.

As soon as the door is closed and locked behind them, Jeff thrusts Annie up against the door and their lips crash together eagerly. Annie’s cool fingers push under the hem of his shirt and explore his hips and lower stomach, making him twitch.

He spins them 90 degrees and pushes Annie up onto the spacious marble counter, positioning himself between her legs. She moans, her hot breath fanning over his cheek as he kisses his way to her neck, taking his time to suck at a sensitive pulse point before moving down to the exposed skin of her chest.

As he nips at her cleavage, his fingers fumble to unclip the utility belt and then make quick work of the button and zipper on her jean shorts. Jeff slides his hand between the fabric of her tights and her panties, teasing at the dampness there, and pulls back so he can watch the expressions play on hers.

Annie’s blinking slowly and her mouth is open, panting.

“I love you,” he says grinning, pushing on her clit through the flimsy layer of cotton.

“You too,” she gasps, grinding her hips into the pressure.

Jeff laughs and walks his fingers past the elastic band of her undies, making her moan loudly.

“Shh,” he kisses her temple and whispers in her ear. “We don’t want to give our location away to the enemy, do we?”

“You try staying quiet…” she puffs, “with your hands…you know…”

“I _am_ very skilled,” he smirks and slides two fingers inside her.

"Ugh, yes," she grunts, falling back against the mirror to give Jeff a better angle.

They've had plenty of time to familiarize themselves with each other's bodies, but Jeff still feels a certain awe when it comes to being intimate with Annie. Obviously, it's different than any other sexual relationship he's had, but the ways in which it's different keep catching him off guard.

For one, he's not used to finding other people's orgasms gratifying. Of course he's always made sure the women he sleeps with get off—that's just common courtesy—but, with Annie, it's different than being polite. It's more than just a good time with mutual release.

He _craves_ Annie's pleasure almost more than he needs his own. Working her to orgasm is satisfying, fun, necessary to his own enjoyment. He's familiar with the 'much better to give than to receive concept,' sure, but he hadn't believed in it until he'd started having sex with Annie.

For another, he finally understands what Britta meant every time she called him closed-off during sex because being emotionally invested in Annie makes their intimacy _explosive_. Where other women have needed impressive maneuvers to really get him worked up, all Annie has to do is make a pleased noise or scratch her nails into the hair at the back of his neck, and Jeff feels fire under every inch of his skin.

What’s more, sex with Annie involves 200 percent more communication than he’s used to. No more diverting gazes when eye contact is accidentally made and no more guessing which noises mean _more_ and which mean _oh, god, please stop that_.

Annie’s actually quite confident when it comes to her body and sex. She has no problem commanding Jeff or occasionally getting inventive. (Which really shouldn’t come as a shock, given six years of exactly that kind of behavior outside the bedroom.)

Following her lead, Jeff’s gotten more comfortable with vocalizing his own wants, which—surprise, surprise—makes everything more enjoyable.

She whines now, responding to Jeff tracing tight circles around her clit with his thumb. “Can you…” she groans, adjusting the angle of her hips before continuing, “faster.”

Happy to oblige, Jeff quickens his thrusts and even smoothly works another finger inside her. “Better?” he asks, his voice low.

“ _Yes_ ,” she draws out the word with a moan. Moments later, she adds, “Close now.”

Always happy to drive her over the edge to release, Jeff uses his free hand to push her camisole up so it bunches around her chest. He tugs one cup of her bra aside so he has unrestricted access and leans in to suck her nipple into a hardened point.

She gasps, pleased, and grinds her hips onto his fingers. Seconds later Jeff feels a rush of wetness accompanied by a series of incoherent noises and some expletives.

He could just stop there, but he’s pretty confident he can use her sensitivity to make her come at least once more. She makes a sexy whimpering noise when he slides out of her and an even sexier moaning noise when he uses his slickened fingers to flick back and forth quickly over her clit.

“Oh, boy,” she gasps. “I am so devouring you after— _oh!_ ”

Jeff uses his teeth to graze her nipple, feeling heat lick down his spine at her unfinished promise, and Annie loses it again. One of her hands curls in his hair, gripping roughly and tugging mercilessly, while she lets out another string of incomprehensible sounds of pleasure.

After rubbing soft circles around the sensitive area as she cools down, Jeff pulls his hand free of her pants and sucks his fingers relatively clean. She watches him with a wanton look in her eyes that makes Jeff hyperaware of how uncomfortably hard he is.

“That was good?” he checks.

“Mhmm. Give me a second to regain feeling in my legs and I’ll be returning the favor.”

He smiles and kisses her lightly on the cheek. “That’s, like, my favorite sentence in the English language.”

Annie laughs breathlessly and slides off the counter. She pitches forward, not quite stable, and Jeff is quick to grip her shoulders and steady her. She smiles up at him and Jeff kisses the tip of her nose before she indicates that she's good to stand on her own. Once he lets go, she adjusts her tights and buttons her shorts back up.

In the length of a second, Jeff is the one being pushed roughly against the bathroom door. Though she has to stand on her tip-toes, leaving her kind of off balance, Annie gives him a few teasing pecks before kissing him more deeply and slipping her tongue into his mouth.

Jeff groans and grips her tightly to him. As she breaks away to shower soft kisses all over his face, her hand slips into the nearly-nonexistent space between their bodies to grip him over his pants.

He eagerly rubs himself into the palm of her hand, and Annie giggles in his ear before tugging on the lobe with her teeth.

"Annie," he whines.

She doesn't need more prompting than that. After flashing him a devious smirk, she sinks onto her knees in front of him.

She takes a moment to lift his shirt up to his bellybutton and press open-mouthed kisses along the skin just above his waistband.

As she toys with the button on his pants, Annie pulls back and looks up at him, a sheepish grin on her face. “I’ve never done this in a public place before.”

“Are you uncomfortable? I know I made it sound like there was an urgent need before, but I can absolutely wait till we get back home if you’re not cool with this.”

“Whoa there,” she laughs. “Do I seem uncomfortable to you?”

He’s about to answer when she swiftly unbuttons his cargo pants and then tugs the zipper down with her teeth.

“Holy…crap.” He lets his head fall back against the door and he squeezes his eyes shut. She makes him absolutely crazy.

“Actually, that kinda hurt.”

“Bad enough that you want to stop?”

She grins and tugs on his cargo pants until they fall around his ankles in response.

“Swell. As for the zipper thing, I will recall that mental image fondly for years to come, but you never have to do it again.”

“My man is so generous,” Annie purrs, tracing him with the nail of her pointer finger through his boxer briefs.

He resists the urge to grab a fistful of her hair and pull her closer, but he's pretty tightly wound and he definitely needs some non-teasing stimulation soon. "He's also impatient," Jeff hints through gritted teeth.

"I'm getting there," she says, peeling the striped underwear down his legs. The bathroom is pretty chilly and, exposed, Jeff shudders.

The shudder turns into a shiver of pleasure when Annie unexpectedly takes the length of him into her mouth. She slowly drags her mouth back toward the tip, swirling her tongue around the underside of his dick. His hips jerk forward, trying to make the feeling last as long as possible, and she grips him firmly at the base of his length.

Her lips smack as they release him, but she barely lets a second pass before her head is bobbing back and forth over him at a moderate pace. Jeff cups the back of her head and digs his fingers into her hair, which makes Annie hum, her mouth still around him.

She starts moving her hand to stimulate the parts of him that aren't covered by her mouth and Jeff feels a tingling electricity in the pit of his stomach. He grabs onto the doorknob with his free hand to steady himself and Annie squeezes her fingers more tightly around him.

" _Yes_ ," Jeff hisses, his body feeling more weightless with every passing second. Encouraged by his enthusiastic moaning, Annie starts moving faster, her tongue expertly caressing the head of his dick. "Could you…a little faster," he manages to request, his head swimming in endorphins and lacking for blood.

Annie obliges, speeding up even more and urging herself a little further down his length with each pass. Moments later, Jeff's body tenses and he lets out a long, low moan as he comes. Then his knees go weak and he slumps against the door, his fingers slipping from the knob.

Annie keeps him in her mouth, milking his pleasure as he had for her. With a final drag of her tongue and a gentle squeeze of her hand, she pulls away and stands.

She wipes her mouth on the sleeve of the flannel, and Jeff snickers, feeling the buoyant aftereffects of his orgasm. She meets his gaze and smiles softly. "So, sex in public is fun," she says matter-of-factly.

"Yeah?" Jeff asks as he pulls himself together enough to redress. He steps behind her where she's redoing her hair in the mirror and says, low in her ear, "We can have more of it."

Annie smirks at his reflection as she washes her hands, then steps aside so Jeff can do the same.

As Jeff fiddles with his hair, she puts her utility belt back on and finally turns the volume back up on the Team Wedison walkie-talkie.

After a burst of static, they catch Abed saying, “Over,” urgently.

“Team Trobed? Team Psychology? Sniper Shirley? Did we miss something? Over.”

“Man, oh man,” Troy’s voice comes over the device and it sounds as if he’s talking too close to the speaker. “We thought you were goners for sure!”

“How come Chang and I don’t get a fancy team name? Or a panicked mention, I might add. _Ouch_.” Jeff can vaguely make out Britta and Troy talking in the background of Dean Pelton’s guilt trip. “Also, are we supposed to say ‘over’ after _every single thing_ we say into these? Over and out!”

“Adding ‘and out’ to the end of your transmission signifies that you’re not expecting a response,” Abed corrects. “And I won’t force anyone to participate, but I do think adhering to proper voice procedure makes the walkie-talkie experience more authentic. Jeff and Annie, we sent Pavel over to your wing to scope things out. You guys should meet up with him. He’ll lead you to us, and then we’ll fill you in on what’s happened. Over.”

Jeff takes the walkie-talkie from Annie. “Pavel’s on our team now?”

“He can be trusted,” Abed assures ominously. “Over.”

“Copy that,” Annie says into the device before clipping it back on her utility belt. “Sounds like something serious might have happened. We should find Pavel.”

“Okay, but…guns ready.” Annie gives him a disapproving look. “Better safe than sorry, right?”

“Abed wouldn’t send someone to retrieve us if he thought there was even a remote possibility that they’d turn on us.”

“We’re in the thick of the game now. We need to be prepared for anything.”

She rolls her eyes at him and pointedly holsters her gun.

“Fine. But I expect to be rewarded with a rousing chorus of ‘You Were Right, Jeff,’ if I have to shoot Pavel before he can get paint on you.”

“And I’m too big a person to expect petty validation even when I’m definitely right about something.”

It’s Jeff’s turn to roll his eyes at Annie. “Will you at least stay behind me? It’ll make protecting you easier.”

She harrumphs but motions for him to go on ahead of her.

He opens the door and checks both ends of the hallway before venturing out. "Pavel?" he whisper-calls, stalking forward carefully. He can feel Annie slinking along closely behind him. "Pavel, are you here?"

Pavel pokes his head out of the office, and his face brightens as soon as he sees Jeff and Annie. "We were sure they'd gotten you, _znajomych_!" He rushes over and holds up his hand for a high five. Jeff flinches, his gun hand twitching, but Annie nudges him in the side before slapping Pavel's hand.

"Who're ‘they’?" she asks.

"Shh! We must sneak. Abed was very clear about wanting to be the one to fill you in. Follow me, broskis."

Pavel starts walking jauntily down the hallway.

"Yeah, there's a real threat," Annie snarks under her breath.

"Maybe that's exactly what he wants you to think. Acting innocent is a classic psych out. He could still strike at any moment."

She scoffs and pushes past him, scurrying to catch up with Pavel. With a groan, Jeff hurries after them.

The group is on the second floor in Cornelius's old room. Pavel, Jeff, and Annie don't run into anyone on the way there, but the stifling and suspicious silence that's pervading the mansion puts Jeff's senses on edge. Something is definitely and majorly afoot.

"Oh, Jeffrey! You're safe!" Dean Pelton perks up when the group walks into the room. He runs forward and throws his arms around Jeff's waist.

Jeff pats the dean once on the shoulder and then pushes him away. "What's going on here?" he asks, glancing around the room. He notices Magnitude, unconscious, in the middle of the absurdly large poster bed, Troy and Britta tending to him as if they've just found out he's going to die of consumption. There's a splatter of black paint on him bigger than any standard paintball would cause. Abed’s leaning against the window frame, staring pensively at the plywood cover as if he can see right through it.

"Look who decided to join us," Britta says, wrinkling her nose at Jeff and Annie.

"You two were having it off, weren't you?" Duncan grins and waggles his eyebrows.

"What?" Annie scoffs. "No. We were just…" she trails off, shooting Jeff a panicked look.

"Uh," he stammers. Though he prides himself on being quick-witted, Jeff flashes back to what they really were doing and his mind goes pleasantly fuzzy.

"Uh-huh," Britta nods at Duncan.

"We really should have come up with a cover story," Jeff whispers to Annie.

"No kidding."

"Are Jeff and Annie safe with you guys yet?" Shirley's voice sounds over four walkie-talkies at once.

Abed is the first to respond, breaking out of his reverie. "Team Wedison is in our care. Over." He turns to Pavel. “ _Dziękuję_ , friend. You’ve done well. Can you deliver this message to Rachel for me?” He holds out a folded piece of notebook paper.

Pavel takes it and then runs out of the room, gun drawn.

“Doesn’t she have a walkie-talkie?” Chang points out.

“This is more dramatic,” Abed says and then nods at Jeff and Annie. "While you guys were having sex, they changed the game on us."

Annie throws up her hands in exasperation. "Who are ‘they’?"

"We're not sure," Abed shakes his head solemnly. "There was an army of maybe fifteen, all masked, with red A's painted on both their cheeks."

"That sounds like _The Scarlet Letter_ ," Britta says, widening her eyes dramatically.

Annie cocks her head. "Um, no it doesn't. What version of _The Scarlet Letter_ did you read?"

"The one that doesn't slut shame."

Annie frowns and then nods, accepting this.

"That book is pretty reprehensible," the dean agrees.

"You guys!" Troy exclaims. "He's waking up!"

Magnitude draws in a big, gasping breath and his eyes snap open. He looks around, disoriented, and everyone in the room leans forward to catch what he's going to say. "Pop…pop?"

"It's okay, buddy," Troy takes his hand and flashes him a reassuring smile. "Take your time. We got you."

"So what happened to him?" Jeff asks.

"Troy and I ran into him down the hall. He was trying to get into the vents, and we quickly gained the advantage. We were prepared to be merciful, of course, when we heard the marching."

"We called for backup," Troy effortlessly picks up Abed's recounting, "but it was already too late. Magnitude here tried to take shelter in the vents. Abed was able to hide in the full-body armor display thanks to his nimble body and matchstick limbs. I fled to one of the spare bedrooms and hid under the bed." He shakes his head at his own cowardice.

Abed pats him on the shoulder. "It's not your fault," he says before continuing with the story. "From my vantage point, I saw them question Magnitude. When he wouldn't give away our location, they blasted him."

"With what?" Annie asks. She's been gripping Jeff's arm throughout the tale, and he pats her hand soothingly.

"It looked like the paintball equivalent of a grenade launcher."

Shirley's voice sounds over the walkie-talkies in the surprised silence. "I _know_ you're not purposefully leaving me out of the loop by not sending me updates."

Britta is the first to grab her device. “Sorry, Shirley. Apparently a mysterious army has banded together and they have a paintball grenade launcher.”

“This army wouldn’t happen to be a bunch of masked individuals in black robes, would it?”

“Yeah,” Abed replies. “Why? Over.”

“A bunch of them are in the Grand Hall now.”

“Do you have a clear shot at any of them? Over.”

Shirley giggles menacingly. “I could do some damage to their numbers.”

“We’ll send a few men over, help you thin the herd. Over.”

Britta stomps her foot. “I object.”

“I didn’t mean ‘men’ as in ‘only those of the male gender’. I was simply using it to refer to our collective team of soldiers. You want the job, it’s yours.”

Britta hops to her feet and holds out her fist for a bump. Abed examines it, eyes narrowed, and then pounds it.

“Come on, Duncan. Let’s show these assholes what Team Psychology is all about.”

“Can we come?” Chang clasps his hands together under his chin and pouts.

“Oh, yes, I’d love to check out these uniformed men,” the dean agrees.

“I’m sure you would,” Jeff says under his breath, earning a smirk from Annie.

“Whatever. But I’m leading this mission, so you better listen to my orders.”

“Don’t you just love a woman who takes charge?” Duncan asks, leaning into Jeff.

Britta whips her gun out from where it was tucked in her pants and cocks the weapon. “Let’s move.” Into her walkie-talkie, she whispers, “We’re on our way over Shirley. Hold fire until I give the signal.”

“Yup,” Troy agrees after she’s gone. “That was pretty hot.”

“Pop,” Magnitude gasps and then coughs, “pop.”

“Are you feeling better?” Troy asks.

“Pop pop,” Magnitude nods, his voice gaining strength.

“This is important,” Abed sits down on the bed and stares, intent, into Magnitude’s eyes. “Did you recognize any of the people who attacked you?”

Magnitude’s brow furrows with concentration. After a moment, he shakes his head.

“Dammit!” Abed gets up and kicks the bedside table. “We’re flying completely blind, then.”

Britta’s voice comes over the walkie-talkies. “Okay, Shirley, we’ve got ‘em surrounded. Ready to attack when you are.”

“On the count of three: one…two…DIE, YOU BASTARDS, DIE!”

“I hope everyone makes it out okay,” Annie says, staring down at the device in her hand.

Jeff kisses the top of her head. “In a worst-case scenario, only fifty percent of them come back. Let’s hope that fifty percent is Team Psychology.”

She elbows him in the stomach. “Was that supposed to make me feel better? If so, you did a terrible job.”

He shrugs.

Magnitude shifts into a sitting position. “I think I’m okay.” He gets off the bed and then nods. “See you guys on Monday. Pop pop!”

Abed shoots a finger gun at him and Annie waves.

“Oh, you!” Troy laughs as Magnitude makes his way to the door. “Love that guy.”

“Mayday, mayday!” The dean’s panicky voice comes in over the walkie-talkies. “Chang is down! Shirley’s position has been compromised! We have to scatter! Save yourselves! Oh, god, no, please, don—” There’s a burst of static and then the line goes dead.

Team Trobed and Team Wedison share a look of terror before they bolt toward the door. Annie unsheathes the El Tigre gun and Jeff decides to double fist his weapons as they run down the hall, covering each other’s backs.

There’s no time to make sure Troy and Abed have a plan of their own. It’s every team for themselves.

“There’s a crawl space that leads to the attic on the third floor. Follow me,” Annie commands, leading Jeff to the flight of stairs.

She skids to a stop when she notices two guards dressed in black robes patrolling the third floor landing. Jeff squints up at them and, sure enough, they both have little red A’s painted on their cheeks.

“This school is fucking crazier than I thought,” Jeff grumbles.

“Do you think there are more of them?”

“Could be. It’s hard to tell.”

“What’s the plan? Should we charge them or take out those two goons and see if more come looking?”

“I’m a fan of the stealth approach myself.”

Annie nods and then motions to a large, nearby potted plant that would easily provide cover for both of them and a pretty good shot. Jeff winks at her and they slink behind the foliage.

He holds up three fingers, and they each train their gun on one of the guards. As soon as last finger is down, they shoot in perfect synchronization.

“What the hell?” the first guard jumps when they’re hit.

“Goddammit,” the second one whines.

Jeff and Annie quietly gasp when the guards remove their masks and reveal themselves to be Quendra and Page, Britta’s not-actually-a-lesbian friend.

“I guess we’re out,” Quendra says solemnly.

“I guess so,” Page frowns. “Hey, want to go get some tacos?”

“Is that code for sex?”

“What? No. For the last time, I’m not a lesbian!”

“In that case, I’d love some Mexican. I spell quesadilla with a qu.”

“Yeah,” Page shoots Quendra a funny look as they make their way down the steps. “So do most people.”

“Looks like there aren’t any guards-in-waiting,” Annie says. “Is it just me, or is it weird that those two were working together?”

“It was pretty weird,” Jeff confirms. “We’ll radio Abed once we’ve taken cover.”

“Good plan.”

They take out three more guards, who turn out to be the Germans, on their way to the hidden crawl space.

“This is so strange,” Jeff says as he and Annie squeeze themselves into the close quarters.

“I know. It’s like all the students have been brought together by their thirst for our destruction.”

He eyes Annie, trying to keep the amused smirk off his face. “No, not that. It’s strange that Greendale students are showing the capacity for structure and organization. There’s gotta be a mastermind behind all this.”

She frowns, considering. “Perhaps you’re right.”

They call Abed over the walkie-talkie, who insists they don’t give away their locations. After they fill him in on what they’ve seen, he tells everyone to sit tight for a while.

Nearly an hour and a half passes—which Jeff and Annie occupy with a fiercely competitive snake tournament on their phones—before they hear Rachel’s voice.

“Hello? Any Save Greendale Committee members in here?”

Jeff cocks a skeptical eyebrow, and Annie shrugs. They slide out of the crawl space—both sighing with relief when the blood flows back into their extremities—and ready their guns just in case.

“Rachel?” Annie whispers.

“Oh, good. Way to hide, you two. I’ve been looking for you for, like, twenty solid minutes.”

“What’s going on?” Jeff asks.

“Abed had a note delivered to me a while ago asking me to get pizza and then gather everyone in the hidden surveillance room. He’s worried the talkies have been tapped.”

“Oooooh,” Jeff and Annie drawl in unison.

Rachel, who’s been sneaking around the mansion looking for all the members of the Save Greendale Committee, leads Team Wedison a roundabout way to the meeting point. Thanks to her, they go unnoticed by guards.

“Abed,” Rachel says at the unturned bookcase. “I have the last of the group.”

“What’s the password?”

Rachel rolls her eyes and flashes Jeff and Annie a sheepish smile. “Batman.”

The bookshelf immediately starts to rotate, and the three of them follow it around until they’re closed into the cramped surveillance room where the Human Being is sitting in the only available chair, watching the cameras. Many of which, Jeff notices, feature robed guards patrolling the mansion.

He elbows Annie in the side and nods at their school’s mascot, who did, in fact, show up in costume. “I’m so going to win,” he whispers in her ear.

Annie rolls her eyes and scans the room. “Shirley!” she exclaims with relief. Britta, Troy, Abed, Duncan, and the Dean all shush her. “Sorry,” she whispers before tiptoeing around the seated circle and inserting herself next to Shirley.

Jeff accepts the piece of cheese pizza that the dean hands him.

“Okay, looks like everyone’s accounted for, so we only lost Chang,” Abed says.

“He didn’t even get the chance to betray us and switch sides before he was eliminated,” Shirley says, shaking her head sadly.

“Now that my partner’s dead, I propose we rearrange the groupings,” the dean says. “I pick Jeff.”

“Yeah, well, Jeff doesn’t pick you,” Jeff says as he pulls the cheese off his pizza.

“The dean does bring up a good point, though,” Abed says, raising a finger. “He’s pretty helpless on his own.”

“Hey! No, yeah, that’s fair.”

“Since Shirley can’t go back to her original post, the most logical solution would be to pair her with the dean.”

“What?” Shirley squawks.

“Your relative badassery would help protect him,” Abed offers as conciliation. Shirley scowls but seems resigned to the setup.

“How long are we going to hide out in here?” Annie asks.

“Just enough time to regroup and consume delicious pizza,” Troy says, tearing into his third piece.

The group settles into hushed conversation, and Jeff feels strangely peppy, at ease.

He should know better than to expect such a state of bliss to last, though.

All the pizza’s been finished, and Troy and Abed have been going on about the Mission Impossible franchise for the better part of 45 minutes before the discussion swerves in a different direction.

“That Chase lady called me this morning because my credit check went through. The apartment is mine if I want it. That is…unless you want to bunk with me again,” Troy raises his eyebrows hopefully at Abed.

Rachel clears her throat and also looks meaningfully at Abed.

“I know you’re trying to say something to me, but I need you to use your words,” Abed says to her.

“For god’s sake, Abed, no girl wants to have sex in a bunk bed,” Britta says.

Rachel frowns and nods her head. “It’s true.”

“It’s not like we do it that often,” Abed reasons.

“I do not want to be hearing this,” Jeff covers his face with his hand.

“That’s not the point,” Rachel says, her voice level. “I just don’t think we’ll get to have the same level of privacy if your bed is also Troy’s bed. I love ya, Troy, but I don’t want to spend the night with you.”

“Abed and I promised each other last night that we’d never let anything come between us again, and that includes you,” Troy pouts.

“Jeez, you guys,” Annie says. “Troy, if you can stand sleeping on the couch for a couple months, you can just move into my room after I graduate.”

It takes Jeff a few moments to process what she’s even said, but once it sinks in he almost gives himself whiplash turning to look at her.

“After you _what_!?”


	13. 3e of 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Word Count:** 11,865  
>  **Disclaimer:** These characters belong to Dan Harmon, etc., etc. I simply enjoy manipulating them.  
>  **Author's Note:** Many thanks to my wonderful beta, bethanyactually. Working with her makes my day brighter. The title comes from a Four Star Mary song called "She Knows." 
> 
> Ta-da! Over 11,800 words! I'm terribly sorry this took so long, but I think you're going to like it. There are only two chapters left in this story (I'm going to miss it so much), but I also have some holiday J/A fics planned. So the next chapter will be delayed a bit. Enjoy!

Annie doesn’t even realize what she’s admitting to when she offers her room to Troy till after it’s out of her mouth, till she’s unable to take it back.

“Oh god.” She feels her chest constrict, and she lets her face fall into her hands so she doesn’t have to look at the expression on Jeff’s face. (Although, that doesn't stop the mental picture of him looking crestfallen and betrayed from taunting her.) “I was going to tell you,” she says after a moment.

It sounds lame even though it’s true. She’d already made a dinner reservation for them that coming Wednesday, and she’d been working on her speech since they’d started dating. There was a plan, with nuance and snuggles and binging on Jeff's favorite ice cream after sex.

"I can't believe…when?" he asks.

"Spring graduation is on Saturday morning, May 17th," the dean offers unhelpfully.

"That's less than two months away! How long have you known about this?"

When Annie gapes soundlessly for several seconds, Abed jumps in. "She's had her valedictorian speech written since November even though she doesn't know for sure it'll be her."

"I have _not_."

"You've been practicing it in the shower just as long. _I_ have it memorized by now."

Annie gasps, affronted. "Have you been listening at the door when I shower again?"

Abed shrugs. "It's a character study. You talk _a lot_."

"Well you have _got_ to stop. It’s creepy."

"Can we get back to the crisis at hand?" Jeff snaps.

"Paintball?" Rachel asks hopefully.

"No, Annie's betrayal."

Britta rolls her eyes. "Oh, suck it up, you big baby. This is a huge accomplishment and we should be congratulating Annie."

"Did you know about this?"

Britta shoots Annie a guilty look before saying, "What is the nature of knowledge, really?"

Jeff glares at Britta and then shifts the chilling, stomach-flipping look to Annie. "Who else knew?" he growls.

"I really think we should be staying quiet," Shirley says. When Jeff turns his critical eye on her, she adds meekly, "You know, for the game."

"You too, huh? Perhaps the better question is who _didn't_ know this was happening."

"I had no formal knowledge of this," Duncan says, "but is it really that surprising? Once you have one degree, you've basically got 'em all."

"Whoa. Is that true? Because I need to brag to everyone in my family, like, right now," Troy pulls his phone out of his pocket. Abed taps him on the shoulder and shakes his head. Troy pockets the phone again, disappointed.

Jeff meets Annie's gaze. She raises her eyebrows and widens her eyes, silently pleading for him to be okay with this. There's a moment in which she's hopeful that he's going to drop it: his expression open and vulnerable. He looks hurt, sure, but there's a hint of something else. Regret, maybe…?

But then his face clouds over.

"Sure, rush to defend the _Ass Crack Bandit_ , why don't you?"

That gets everyone's attention.

"What?" they all snap, seven heads turning in unison.

Even the Human Being swivels in their chair to stare at Annie with a muffled gasp of surprise.

She can feel all of her friends gaping at her, but she's too busy gawking at Jeff to acknowledge any of them. "So that's how it's going to be, huh?"

He shrugs, his eyes gleaming maliciously.

"Is it true?" Troy presses. "Were you the ACB?"

Annie turns to him and winces.

"Oh my god," Troy takes that as confirmation and clutches his chest dramatically. "I've been living with a serial cracker? I don't know if I can look at you ever again."

"Well our profile was _way_ off," Duncan chuckles and nudges Britta in the side.

“What profile, am I right?” the dean holds out his hand for a high-five. Abed just stares at him blankly until he puts the hand back down.

"Let me explain," Annie pleads.

"I don't know," Britta says, her face scrunched with distaste. "That's really weird."

"Exactly," Troy points at Britta. "You can't justify something like that."

"Oh, yeah, Butt Soup? You're going to judge me?" Annie says, annoyed.

"Yeah, I am," Troy says.

"How about I tell them about the time you tried to rent a copy of a video called _Twin Cheeks_ only to grab it and run when the cashier asked to see your ID?"

"I have a thing for butt stuff _and_ parodies, okay? If you had only _asked_ to put a quarter in my butt crack, I wouldn't feel so violated!"

"Troy!" Shirley chastises. "Stealing is wrong and, strictly speaking, such an intense interest in sodomy is like an invitation for the devil."

"You shouldn't police other people's sexual interests, Shirley, especially to serve your own religious interests." Britta says. "Your body, your choice."

"Says the woman who sometimes misses her rent to buy _condoms_."

"That happened one time!" Britta clarifies and then leans over Annie to hiss at Shirley. "And I came to you for help when I was in a dark place. I thought Christians didn't throw that kind of thing in your face."

"Oh please," Jeff says. "You're _always_ asking someone for a loan that you’ll never pay back. You barely waited a week after Troy got home to ask him for some money to buy ‘herbal remedies.’ You said, and I quote, ‘he’s too innocent to know that means pot’."

“That’s what you were getting?” Troy exclaims. “You told me that was a band you really liked. Why are all my friends taking advantage of me?”

“Troy still steals Annie’s vibrator to use as a back massager sometimes!” Rachel blurts out. When everyone turns to stare at her, she adds, “What? I’ve witnessed enough of your guys’ fights to know how they work. You gotta throw someone under the bus.”

“Usually that comes _after_ someone calls you out,” Abed says, “but nice form.”

Rachel gives him a thumbs-up.

“Wait, you do _what_?” Annie says, getting to her feet. “Troy, that’s unsanitary! And _really_ disturbing!"

Troy rises too. “It helps me sleep better! Plus, I always clean it afterward. I’m not inconsiderate; I don't drop quarters into people's butts.”

“No way. Your thing is way worse than me being the Ass Crack Bandit.”

“What? Nuh-uh. You're not getting off the hook that easily.”

The group dissolves into a shouting match. Everyone gets to their feet to yell in each other's faces.

Things get so heated, in fact, that no one hears the Human Being's stifled screeches of warning until they push their way into the center of the circle and start jumping up and down.

"Uh, I think we broke the Human Being," Troy says, missing the last part of Jeff's dig at his masculinity. "What is it? Did Timmy fall down the well again?"

"They're not a dog, Troy," Annie rolls her eyes.

"Mphard!" The Human Being waves their hands around. "Mphard!"

"Are they calling us retards?" Shirley asks, clutching her cross necklace and eyeing the school mascot critically.

The Human Being shakes their head, exasperated, and walks over to the cameras, gesturing dramatically to the screen that displays the bookshelf entrance to the security room.

The group gasps collectively when they notice one of the robed, A-marked combatants tugging on various items on the shelf.

"Come out, come out wherever you are," the masked person sing-songs.

"Wait," Abed cocks his head. "I know that voice."

"We know you're in there."

"Is that Leonard?" Duncan asks. Abed's eyes go wide and he points at Duncan in confirmation.

"How do they know we're here?" Annie hisses under her breath.

"Why don't you ask a roll of quarters?" Troy suggests snidely.

Annie rolls her eyes, and Troy sticks out his tongue at her.

“We have our ways,” Leonard says cryptically.

Abed turns to Jeff. "We're about to be drawn back into battle. I'd say it's time for a Winger speech that inspires unity."

"Leonard's had four open-heart surgeries since we've known him. He's hardly a challenging opponent," Jeff says stubbornly.

"Oh boy," Dean Pelton says. "I think the hilt of my sword might have depressed the talk button on my walkie-talkie. What if they heard us talking about the room?"

"Why do you even have that?" Jeff asks, exasperated.

"It goes with the outfit," the dean says.

"A shield of some sort would have been much more useful," Abed points out.

"And hindsight is 20/20, okay? I make mistakes. I'm only human!"

"Whatever," Jeff says, waving off the dean's panic. "I don't think we can rule out the possibility that there's a mole in the group."

Abed clucks his tongue. "I don't like it, but it's true. No one should have known about this room but us, and we haven't mentioned our exact location for some time."

"Well, I bet it's Annie," Troy crosses his arms and glares at her.

"What? Why would I betray the group?"

"I don't know, A-Crack. That's for you to know and us to find out."

She scoffs. "For all we know, it's you. You say stuff that you shouldn't _all_ the time."

"Like when you told Pierce that Chang and I slept together," Shirley says. "Not that I'm holding on to any resentful feelings."

The group starts to fight again, accusing one another of being the betrayer.

Before things get too out of hand, though, Britta starts snapping her fingers. "Guys, _guys_! We can deal with this betrayal thing later. There are more pressing issues at hand," she nods toward the security cameras. "You know what we should do?"

"Make like rabbits in heat?" Duncan guesses.

"What? No. We should take Leonard hostage! He's old, so it'd probably be easy. We can get information on whoever's doing this out of him."

"Also an option," Duncan allows.

"I can hear you, Blondie," Leonard says. "This is a bookshelf, not the Berlin Wall."

"We _should_ clean up and leave. He's going to find the trigger eventually," Shirley says.

“Good idea,” Leonard says. “Come out here and fight me like men.”

Britta makes exaggerated gagging noises while Annie shouts, “Shut up, Leonard! I read an Emily Dickinson poem the other day and it reminded me of you.”

“Hmm,” Leonard steps back from the book shelf, frowning in thought. “Not your best.”

Annie gasps, affronted. “Most of her poems are about death…he’s old.” The group stares at her. “Oh, come on! It’s funny!” she insists.

“Tell that to my butt crack,” Troy says.

“I think we could really use that unity speech,” Abed says, staring pointedly at Jeff. “Leonard might actually defeat us if we don’t work together.”

Jeff looks over at Annie. She quirks an eyebrow at him.

“Well I guess we’ll find out who the best warriors are, then. Every person for themselves.”

Then he activates the revolving door.

Leonard’s ready for their exit, his gun trained at the bookcase.

Jeff does a somersault right past him and runs out the door.

“Jeff!” Annie calls after him, but he doesn’t even look back. She tries to bolt after him, but Leonard grabs her wrist and spins her into his body, putting his gun to her head.

Everyone but the Human Being pushes out of the small security room and aims their weapon at Leonard.

The tension in the room is palpable for several silent seconds as everyone assesses their options.

“We could just let him shoot her,” Troy says after a bit.

“Hey!” Annie protests.

“Forgiveness is divine, Troy,” Shirley reminds him. “What Annie did was, well, inexcusable and strange. But she’s one of us and we’re not just going to let her die.”

Troy crosses his arms over his chest. “You can’t forgive someone who hasn’t even apologized.”

“You're right.” Annie says, making sure she has Troy’s attention before continuing. “I’m really sorry that I infringed on your privacy and personal space like that. I wanted to bring the group back together and have adventures after our summer of separation, but I compromised my integrity and my friend’s trust to do so. I never meant to hurt you, and I’m sorry.”

Troy’s steely expression wavers and then a big grin breaks out on his face. “Aw, hell, I can’t stay mad at you. Apology accepted.”

“Well this is all very heartwarming,” Leonard says, digging his gun into Annie’s temple, “but now it’s time to say goodbye to your busty leader.”

“Come on, dude. Annie is more than just a pair of boobs,” Britta says. “Break his brittle bones!”

“Just for that, I’m going—”

But they don’t get to find out what Leonard’s going to do because Pavel breezes into the room. “There you guys are! I was worried something had happened to…” he trails off when he notices the standoff. Displaying some impressive reflexes, he draws his weapon and shoots Leonard in the back of the head before anyone can move.

“What the hell?” Leonard drops his gun as Annie gives Pavel a grateful smile. “You’re not a part of their little committee, are you?”

“No siree, Angelina Jolie.”

“Then why are you defending these chumps?”

“Abed and I were hall mates our freshman year. That’s not a bond quickly broken.”

Leonard blows raspberries at the entire room and then makes his way toward the door. He pauses in the doorway, though. “If you ever get tired of playing a background character in these loonies’ sitcom, there is another way.” He taps one of the A’s painted on his cheek and adds. “All you have to do is follow the draft.”

“A clue!” Abed’s eyes light up as Leonard waddles away.

“A vague and unhelpful clue,” Annie says. “I’ve got to find Jeff.”

“Wait!” Pavel blocks the doorway. “I came to tell you a group of robed assailants are on their way over here now. We must escape posthaste!”

“Let’s go then,” Britta charges forward.

“I’m afraid they are too close,” Pavel says, slamming the door to the room closed and pushing an armchair in front of it. “We must find another way out.”

Everyone looks around, dumbfounded. “Oh god, oh god,” the dean chants. “We’re going to die in here.”

“I have a risky idea,” Abed says as he rifles through his fanny pack. “I know we’re on the second floor, but I brought my—pause for dramatic effect—grappling hook! We can use the window to escape.”

“Oh dear Lord,” Shirley cries, making the sign of the cross. “We _are_ going to die.”

Annie glances around the room looking for a much less dangerous solution. When nothing pops out at her, she springs into action. “Okay, okay. We need something to break the wood off."

"On it!" Duncan surges forward and starts pulling on the thin board. When it's clear his struggle isn't going anywhere, Troy and Abed join him.

The plywood wrenches free with a loud _crack_ and part of the window frame comes with it.

"You _guys_ ," Annie says shrilly. "You broke it!" They shrug, nonchalant, and Annie turns her head, expecting to get an earful from Jeff about how he's winning their bet.

When she remembers that he's not in the room, her heart flips.

"I'm sure they've heard us by now," Abed points out, unfurling the rope of his grappling hook and letting it fall out the now-open window.

"We’re going to have to secure that with something heavy enough to support all of us.” Annie shakes the negative thoughts from her head, getting back in the game.

“How about this solid lead bust of Pierce’s head?” Troy says, patting the sculpture.

“Perfect. Bring it over here.” As Abed latches the grappling hook on the window ledge and holds it steady, Annie anchors the rope in place with the bust. When it's secure, she turns to Rachel. “Will you be able to stay behind and make sure everyone makes it down safely before you go back to the registration table?”

Rachel holds up her cell phone. “Ready to call 911 if necessary.”

“Great.” Annie nods to Abed. “After you.”

He turns to Troy. "See you down there."

Troy smiles and they do their handshake once, quickly. "Make me and Batman proud."

Then Abed swings himself over the ledge, cocks an eyebrow at the group, and disappears.

They crowd around the window to watch him awkwardly slide himself down the rope. When he's nearly to the ground, Annie says, "Someone else should probably go now."

Troy volunteers. Then Britta. Then Pavel. Then Duncan.

Shirley and Dean Pelton don't seem ready yet, so Annie is the next one to swing herself over the windowsill to slide down the side of the building.

It's darker outside than Annie expected it to be—time had lost all meaning inside the manor but it's already late Saturday evening—and there's a steady rain that quickly soaks into her clothes.

When she's about halfway down the length of the rope, a gust of wind sends her swinging. She shrieks.

"Hold on, Annie!" Britta yells encouragement from the ground. "We've got ya!"

"Don't look down," she chants to herself, tightening her grip and giving herself some serious rope burn as she slides toward the ground. "Just don't look down."

There's about a three-foot drop to the lawn from the end of the cable. Annie takes a deep breath, steels herself, and lets go.

Troy catches her around the upper thighs and sets her gracefully on the ground. "Thanks, roomie," she smiles at him.

"You're welcome, A-Crack."

"God, _please_ don't make that a regular thing."

"I like it," Abed says.

Troy laughs and they do their handshake.

Annie grunts in response and shields her eyes so she can look up through the rain at the second story window. When she sees that neither Shirley nor the dean have started down the rope, she calls, "Hey, you two, it's not actually that bad! C'mon down!"

“I don’t know if I’m comfortable with this," Shirley says, frowning and leaning out of the window.

Dean Pelton's head appears above her shoulder. "I fell out of a tree when I was young. It was a very traumatic experience, and I swore off climbing things for the rest of my life."

"There isn't much time left," Abed says. "You either come down or face the enemy, outnumbered and under-equipped."

“Plus, we’re sitting ducks out here,” Britta says. “People could find us at any moment.”

“My socks have been soaked through and my feet are pruning,” Duncan adds in complaint.

Shirley hums nervously, shaking her head.

"I will not leave my teammates behind!" Annie insists, stomping her foot. "Get down here, you two."

"Aww, you're willing to claim me as your teammate?" The dean clutches his chest. "That's good enough for me; I'm coming down."

In his rush to climb over the window ledge, Craig gets his boot caught against the cracked wood. There’s a moment of terror in which time seems to stop and the dean flails in the air.

Shirley is the first to react, reaching out to grab him around his ankles. Dean Pelton flops forward, his face smashing into the side of the house.

“Okay, yeah, here comes a nose bleed.”

“Oh my,” Shirley trills, her voice squeaky with panic. “What do I do?”

“Pull me back up!” the dean demands.

Suddenly, Shirley’s head snaps back toward the door. Annie can’t really hear what’s happening through the intensifying rain, but she would bet her life that the masked assailants have finally come on the scene.

“Hurry,” she hears Rachel urge.

“Aw hell,” Shirley says and hesitates a few seconds longer—conflicting emotions playing across her face—before she tugs the dean back up into the manor in an impressive show of strength. She slings him over her shoulder effortlessly and straddles the window ledge. “Someone better be ready to catch me.”

“I’ve had dreams like this,” the dean says. “Only there’s usually a different person carrying me. _Oh my god_.”

Shirley holds Dean Pelton in place with one hand and grips the rope with her other. She plants her feet against the building, and Rachel grabs onto the lead bust to keep the rope in place, looking bewildered.

The rest of the group watches with amazement as Shirley walks herself down the side of Hawthorne Manor with a man on her shoulder, agile as ever.

“Holy crap, Shirley,” Britta says once she’s safely on the ground. “That was kick-ass!”

“Talk about sexually intimidating,” Duncan says, his eyes practically popping out of his sockets.

Abed clucks his tongue. “I wish I’d had my camera to capture that on film.”

“Don’t worry,” Pavel holds up his phone. “I got it.”

Abed pumps his fist.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” she asks as she sets Dean Pelton down. “Let’s find some damn cover.”

They move out of the square of light cast by the open window and behind a tree just in time. A few masked assailants rush to the window, see the grappling hook, and squint out into the darkness.

“Damn,” a female voice says. “They escaped.”

“Don’t worry,” a male voice responds. “We have people planted outside.” Annie shares a worried look with Britta. “Plus, it looks like they left us a present.”

“Oh, I’m not a player,” the group hears Rachel say.

“All’s fair in love…” the female starts.

“…And _war_ ,” the male finishes.

Rachel shrieks, and Shirley has to catch Abed by the tail of his shirt to keep him from running back into the light and revealing their position.

“It’s okay, buddy,” Troy assures. “Rachel’s strong. She can take care of herself. We need to keep moving.”

“Yeah, I don’t like the sound of them having people planted out here.” Annie glances up into the leaves of the tree they’re standing under but all she can make out is darkness.

“As well you shouldn’t.” A voice comes from behind them, followed by cackling.

Everyone whips around expecting to find an anonymous member of the A-team, but the person they’re faced with hasn’t bothered to wear a mask.

“Todd,” Annie greets, crossing her arms. “What are you doing here?”

“Isn’t it obvious? I’m here to DESTROY YOU!” He starts screeching with laughter again only to be cut off by a coughing fit. “I’ve been out here for several hours, actually,” he explains in between bouts of hacking, though no one asked. “I might have caught a cold.”

“Shouldn’t you have backup? It seems irresponsible to send you out here alone,” Abed says.

“And where’s your mask?” Troy adds.

“Anonymity is for the _weak_ ,” Todd growls. “And who says I don’t have backup?” He snaps his fingers, and suddenly the group is surrounded by dark figures. “Oh, this does _not_ look good for our heroes,” he sing-songs. “No _offense_ , of course.”

“Why would we take offense to you calling us heroes?” Britta scoffs.

Todd frowns, stumped.

“Please tell me someone has a plan,” Pavel worries.

A deafening clap of thunder sounds, giving Annie an idea. “Don’t move until I have Todd,” she whispers to the group.

“What does that even mean?” the dean asks, gripping Annie’s shoulder.

She shrugs him off and levels Todd with a menacing look. He stares back, cocking his eyebrow at her, but Annie can see the fear in his eyes.

The second lightning flashes across the sky—momentarily blinding and disorienting everyone—she barrel rolls across the sodden lawn, gets to her feet, and secures Todd in a chokehold, drawing one of her guns and holding it against his temple as she slips a little on the wet grass.

“Nobody move or Todd here takes a paintball in the face!”

“You’re on fire today,” Abed nods at Annie approvingly.

All the people cloaked in darkness mutter in surprise. After a few suspense-filled moments, one of them steps forward and clears their throat. As the closest Save Greendale Committee member, Troy responds by training his gun at the person’s crotch.

The person raises their hands over their head in surrender. “Uh, we talked about it, and, um, we don’t really care if you shoot Todd. In the face or anywhere else, really.”

“You guys,” Todd whines. “You never betray your platoon leader! That’s like the first rule of war.”

“Whatever, man,” one of the other masked assailants says. “What do you know about it?”

“I fought in Afghanistan!”

“Oh, shut up.”

“Who cares?”

“Didn’t stop 9/11 from happening, did ya?”

“Looks like the decorated veteran bit isn’t working on anyone anymore,” Dean Pelton taunts. Then adds under his breath, “Except me.”

“I’m married,” Todd reminds him.

Annie tightens her grip on his throat and he splutters. During the stall in their standoff, she’s managed to get a pretty good estimate of how many people are lurking in the shadows.

The A-team’s numbers are hardly overwhelming.

She clears her throat loudly, getting everyone's attention. Annie's focused only on Abed, though, who casually holds up eight fingers.

Yeah, that was her count, too. She nods at him.

"You do realize that betraying Todd here isn't exactly your ticket to freedom, right?" Annie addresses the masked strangers, just before another roll of thunder. As she's talking, Abed whispers to Shirley, who then turns to murmur something to Britta, and so on.

"What are you talking about?" The one who had stepped forward aims his gun at Troy's chest. Troy cocks his own gun in a show of intimidation. "We're the ones who have you surrounded."

Annie shrugs and flips strings of wet hair out of her face. “We’ll see if that makes a difference.”

“Fire!” Abed commands.

“Please don’t hurt me,” the dean squeals, assuming fetal position.

Annie shoots her captive in the foot.

The _crack_ of paintballs around them almost drowns him out, but Annie just catches Todd's whimpered, “Thank you for your mercy, soldier.”

“Oh, shut up,” Annie says, shooting him again, this time in the stomach. She turns away to survey the battlefield but can still hear the dull, squelching _thud_ of his body hitting the ground. She smirks to herself.

The mirth is short-lived, though. Several of the masked assailants are on the ground or have giant splatters of paint on their chests—the threat effectively neutralized—but Shirley is among the fallen.

“Well,” she starts, clutching her orange-splattered shoulder, “I guess if I go now I can make it home to tuck my boys into bed.”

“You did good,” Britta says.

“I am terrified to ever piss you off given your performance today,” Duncan says.

Shirley cocks an eyebrow and then nods, choosing to accept that as a compliment.

“I’ll make a gif of you scaling a building whenever this is over,” Abed promises.

“I don’t know what that means.”

“That’s okay. You’re going to want to send it to everyone you know. Just trust me.”

“Oookay,” Shirley says before turning to Annie. “Text me when things are winding down. I’ll come back for clean-up.”

“You’re the best,” Annie smiles and then gives Shirley a quick one-armed hug.

“Good luck tracking down your man!” Shirley calls over her shoulder as she scuttles off to her car.

“Jeff!” Annie smacks her forehead. She’d gotten so caught up in the excitement that she’d managed to forget their fight. She needs to find him soon. After everything she implied....

“Yeah, I need to find Rachel,” Abed says, a small frown tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Are we good here?" she asks, watching as members of the A-team help each other up and start off for their own cars.

“We managed to shoot most of them. One got away, though,” Pavel gives her the update.

“Before I could shoot him in the nuts,” Troy pouts.

“Let the elements get ‘em,” Duncan says, blowing raspberries. “I have enough water in my shoes to bathe a family of sea monkeys. Let’s go inside.”

“Aren’t sea monkeys microscopic?” Abed asks as they edge around the side of the manor on their way to the front door.

"What's your point?"

"You wouldn't need much water to bathe them."

"You don't know how many cousins they have. Could be a large family."

"Will you two shut up?" Britta snaps. "We're trying to be sneaky here."

Rachel isn't at the registration table when the group gets inside, tracking mud and grass across the carpet and squinting in the relative brightness of the manor's front hall. Abed makes a high-pitched panicky whine in the back of his throat.

"Okay." Annie quickly checks the cashbox to make sure it's locked. Once she's sure nothing's been stolen, she turns to the group. "Shirley and Chang are down. Rachel's been taken captive. We have no idea where Jeff is."

"And our walkie-talkies are broken," Troy adds, testing his with no luck. "They must have gotten wet."

"Gee. I wonder how that could have happened," Duncan snarks.

"Hey," Annie snaps her fingers at him. "Things aren't looking good, and we need to work together if we want any one of us to get out of this thing alive. We need a plan."

"I have an idea," Abed says. "It'll help me find Rachel, but I also think it's the most logical next step."

"Let's hear it," Britta says, sitting down on the registration table. A puddle starts to form under her feet.

"If we want to find out more about the enemy, we need to become one with the enemy."

"Body switching," Troy nods. "I'll get the _Freaky Friday_ DVD."

"No," Abed says. "We need to take out members of the other team and steal their clothes and masks. We need to go undercover behind enemy lines."

The group nods in approval.

"We should redistribute teams again and get moving," Annie says.

"I'm still with Britta!" Duncan says.

"Do you mind if I come with you two?" Annie asks Troy and Abed.

"Team 303: those who room together, dominate at paintball together," Troy says approvingly.

"Ex _cuse_ me," Dean Pelton crosses his arms and taps his boot impatiently. "What happened to no teammates left behind? Am I really _that_ undesirable as a partner?"

"Uh…" Annie stalls. "You could go with Pavel."

"Sure, stick me with the foreigner," he says. "Sorry Pavel."

Pavel shrugs, but Abed levels the dean with a critical stare.

"Look, it's not that you're _bad_ ," Troy starts.

"It's that you're hilariously incompetent," Abed finishes.

The dean gapes, clutching his chest. "Well that's just hurtful."

Before anyone can say anything else, music starts playing in the hall. It's faint and poppy, but the basic melody sounds elusively familiar to Annie.

"What the hell is that?" Britta asks, sliding off the table and getting her gun ready.

"Oh, Dean Dim-Wit," a voice taunts from down the hall.

"Oh no," Dean Pelton whimpers and gets behind Annie.

"What's going on?" she asks him.

"I've told you about the students who harass me when I get out of my car in the mornings, right?" The dean gulps.

"You've mentioned it in passing."

"We prepared a song for you," the voice continues, getting louder as it gets closer.

"I think they're coming for me," he says, gripping Annie’s shoulders tightly.

“ _Ding dong, the dean is doomed. Which old dean? The doltish dean! Ding dong, the doltish dean is doooooomed_.”

“Some of them are in the glee club,” he adds unnecessarily.

“Oh, man.” Britta stomps her foot. “Let’s get ‘em!”

“Really? That’s what puts the fight in you? Rallies the troops? No one’s interested in protecting me as treasured member of this group?” Annie opens her mouth to say something, already wincing apologetically, but Dean Pelton cuts her off. “No, it’s okay. Don’t answer that.” He squares his shoulders. “Everybody hide.”

“What?” Annie asks, surprised. “Why?”

“Works for me,” Duncan says, shrugging and closing himself in the coat closet. Britta snorts.

Annie stares wide-eyed at the dean, waiting for an answer.

“I’ve got to be a flying circus,” he says, “ _alone_.”

“Why now?”

“Because if I don’t stand up to these bullies now, I may never do it? Because I want to prove myself to you guys? I don’t know, Annie, a lot of reasons,” he snaps. “Now hide.”

The rest of the group, looking confused and curious about the exchange, listens when the dean urges them to take cover a second time, ushering into the coat closet behind Duncan.

The obnoxious singing gets louder.

“We should have a code word or something,” Annie says hurriedly. “In case you need us to come out and help.”

“Triceratops,” he decides before shooing Annie away and getting out his gun.

She hears the scraping of something heavy—the registration table, probably—being dragged across linoleum as she crowds into the closet with everyone else and takes comfort in the fact that Dean Pelton is at least smart enough to create cover for himself.

“Flying circus?” Abed asks her, hushed, as soon as the door’s closed.

“It was something I said to him,” Annie explains vaguely, trying to push a stinky trench coat out of her face.

“It smells like mothballs and cream of mushroom soup in here,” Britta says, gagging.

Before anyone can either agree or tell her to be quiet, several _pops_ sound outside: a paintball gun firing. The remaining committee members fall silent and shuffle toward the door, straining to hear what’s happening just outside.

“That was rude,” an unfamiliar male voice says as several paintball guns clatter to the floor.

“Well if you didn’t want to be picked off so quickly, you should have gone with a subtler approach,” is Dean Pelton’s reply.

“You know you’ve gone too far when the dean makes a plea for subtlety,” Duncan says under his breath.

“Noted,” the voice says. “Is it just you and me now, or is your prized Save Greendale Committee lurking somewhere?”

“Ow, Troy, that’s my foot,” Annie whines, pressing her ear as close to the door as she can.

“Yeah, well, Britta’s elbow is in my testicles. You’re getting off easy.”

“Whoops. Sorry Troy.”

“S’okay. It’s weirdly arousing.”

“Be quiet,” Abed says. “I’m trying to listen.”

“So what if they are?” Dean Pelton says, a slight quaver in his voice.

“If they are, then it proves what I already know to be true: that you’re a coward. That you only care about a select group of students.”

“Kim,” the dean gasps. “That’s such a hurtful thing to say. I love _all_ my students.”

“Kim?” Annie repeats. “Jeff, do you remember…,” she trails off, realizing what she’s doing a beat too late.

What she thinks is Troy’s hand falls to her shoulder and squeezes. She feels her face flush.

“You never do anything to prove it,” Kim says, anger mounting.

“I’ve given the school everything,” the dean says. “High quality meat at parties, degrees, free Caesar salads.”

“Oh, please, two out of three of those things always ends in disaster.”

“Where was I successful? It’s always good to know what works and what doesn’t, but no one ever responds to my email surveys.”

“The taco meat is always delicious,” Kim says with a growl. “But that’s beside the point. You’re still a terrible dean.”

“Well, you’ve got my attention, Kim. See, I’m putting down my gun to show you that I can play nice.”

“What?” Britta hisses, smooshing Annie against the door at an awkward angle as she tries to press her ear more firmly against the wood.

“I wish I was out there,” Abed says.

“Tell me what you want from me,” the dean continues, “and I’ll do the best I can to make it happen.”

Kim’s hesitation is nearly palpable. “It can’t be that easy.”

“I’m not a miracle worker by any means, and I have to keep the school budget in mind. But as long as your request is reasonable, I’ll try.”

“Really?”

“Yes!” The dean loses his cool. “Why is that so hard to believe? I’m an approachable person. I have a suggestion box outside of my office. If it was ever filled with serious comments instead of stuff like ‘suck dick’ or ‘420 blaze it,’ I’d already be doing more to improve the school!”

“Pfft, who would do something like that?” Britta says guiltily.

“How can I ever help anyone if no one asks for it?” the dean asks Kim.

“Okay…I want to start my own queer community support group. Pride is so cliquey.”

“Sure! That’s an easy one.”

“It is?”

“All you need to do is fill out some paperwork and find a faculty advisor. I happen to know a fellow who’s interested in getting more comfortable with his identity.”

“Is it you?” Kim asks, clearly less than impressed.

“Well you don’t have to sound so enthused,” the dean retorts.

“I’m sorry. It’s just…you’re not exactly the poster child for well-adjusted.”

“Yeah, well you have a girl’s name!” Almost immediately, the dean adds, “Oh, I’m sorry, that was out of line. How about we make a deal?”

“What kind of deal?”

“We face off. If you win, find whichever faculty member you want to be the advisor.”

“And if you win?”

“If I win, I get to do it, of course.”

Kim is silent for a moment. “Sounds fair.”

Abed opens the door, and everyone in the coat closet falls out, tripping over one another.

“What the hell?” Annie asks him, pulling her leg out from under Pavel.

“I wasn’t going to miss a standoff,” Abed says matter-of-factly.

“I _knew_ they were lurking around!” Kim says, stabbing an accusatory finger in the dean’s direction.

“Well, let’s do this, shall we?” Dean Pelton says, hurriedly changing the subject, and jumps over the registration table.

“I suggest the classic guns holstered, start with your backs to each other, walk three paces, and draw,” Abed says.

“Fine,” Kim practically snarls and then slips the barrel of his gun into his pocket. The dean puts his in the waistband of his skirt.

They get into place, and Abed runs around the table to get a better perspective. “On my count,” he says, and the dueling men nod. “One, two…three…DRAW!”

In his excitement, Dean Pelton gives his gun a more aggressive yank than is merited and hits himself in the face.

Kim’s shot lands neatly in the middle of the dean’s sternum.

“Holy mother of pearl!” the dean wails, clutching his chest and pinching his nose.

“Hilariously incompetent,” Abed says, shaking his head.

“You guys think so, too, huh?” Kim asks. “Why’re you all dean’s pets then?”

“Why are you at Greendale, Kim?” Annie asks him. Taken off guard by the randomness of her question, his face morphs into honest look of embarrassment and guilt. “I thought so…we accept the dean as is for the same reason he accepts all of us: everyone deserves a second and a third and a fourth chance at getting it right.”

Kim grunts thoughtfully and then nods in the dean’s direction. “I know who I want the faculty advisor to be.”

“Okay,” the dean says, voice thick with his second nosebleed of the night. “We can talk about it on Monday. It’s time for me to slink home in shame.”

“I pick you.”

“Oh yeah? Well then, that’s…I mean to say…I’m honored.”

Kim rolls his eyes and then tosses his gun to Abed, who catches it and fluidly unloads the clip of paintballs. “Whatever. I’ll see you on Monday. I’m going home to make some fliers.”

“You okay?” Annie asks the dean.

“ _Dean_ -amite. I am out though.”

“Yeah, and I don’t think you should drive with a nosebleed.”

“Perhaps you’re right.”

“You up for staying here and guarding the cashbox?” she asks.

“That’s fine,” the dean agrees, dropping heavily into the folding chair. Duncan and Britta slide the table back into place in front of him.

“Pavel should stay behind and watch him for a bit,” Abed says.

“You don’t want me to stick with you, broski?”

“It’s becoming increasingly dangerous,” Abed says. “I think you’ll be safer if we separate. Besides, once the dean’s stable, I need you patrolling the halls, warning us of any developments.”

Pavel salutes him and then rushes off to find a box of tissues for Dean Pelton.

Abed turns to Britta and Duncan. “You two start looking for those stashes of extra paintballs. Troy, Annie, and I will secure enemy costumes for all of us. We’ll meet in the fourth-floor bathroom at,” he glances at his phone, “12:30. Everyone in favor of the plan?”

Britta, Duncan, Troy, and Annie all murmur their approval.

“Excellent. Aaaaand break!”

“Good luck!” the dean calls after them as they head back into the depths of the mansion.

Annie realizes almost immediately that sneaking around with Troy and Abed is much, much different than working with Jeff.

For one thing, she’s not nearly as in sync with them as she is with Jeff, and they keep stumbling into close encounters with masked patrollers while looking for a suitable location to set up a trap. For another, Troy and Abed are speaking in full-on nerd code, especially rife with inside jokes in the wake of their reunion.

The cherry on the cake, though, is that her desire to be in control constantly clashes with Abed’s.

“Why do I have to be the bait?” she snaps at him as he gets into place behind a statue of Cornelius tucked in a wall nook at the end of a long hallway. “I’m just as capable a shot as Troy. This is a dumb plan.”

“This plan is foolproof, and you have to be the bait because you have way more sexual draw than Troy or me. We have to play on human weakness, Annie, and men turn to blubbering idiots when faced with your boobs.”

She crosses her arms over her chest and scowls. “Back me up here,” she says to Troy.

He’s hiding behind the statue of Cornelius’s father on the other side of an impressive window, but she can still see him shrug apologetically. “Sorry, A-Crack.”

“Ugh, fine. If I get shot, I'm not making either of you dinner or doing extra chores for a month.”

They both look stricken as she turns haughtily on her heel and marches off to find someone to lure into the hall.

Wandering Hawthorne Manor by herself at night is especially creepy, and Annie’s skin keeps crawling with the paranoid sensation that someone’s watching her every move.

To soothe her nerves, she starts talking to herself as she roams. “I know you’re out there, masked assailants. You can’t sneak up on me.” She rounds a corner, gun drawn, and scans the hall for bodies before edging along a wall. The further she gets without encountering anyone, the more relaxed she feels. “I eat fools like you for breakfast,” she sing-songs, peeking into a room. When no one's there, she starts rapping quietly. “’Cause my name is psycho, son, and I’m a woman on the run. I shoot paintballs true, let college credits accrue. Forensic science is my game; criminals cower in shame. So you best run away, I don’t stand for foul play. I’ll hang an ace on your heart, and then I’ll blow you apart!” She finishes her ditty with a flourish, jumping around another corner…where she comes face to face with the enemy.

They’re just as surprised as she is, and they both shriek in shock.

“Hey! Annie! It’s me!”

She’d recognize that huffing and puffing anywhere. “Garrett?”

“Yes! I think we’re supposed to duke it out now, but I need to take a minute…make that several minutes. You’ve triggered my asthma.”

“Did you bring your inhaler?”

“Evil regimes don’t have time to sew pockets in their henchmen’s clothing, Annie!”

She shakes her head. “C’mon. We have a first aid kit in the security room.”

Since she has her arms full supporting a wheezing Garrett, Annie thanks her lucky stars they’re able to sneak past all the guards unnoticed.

“Human Being?” Annie asks, knocking on the revolving bookcase. “Are you there? We have an injured soldier out here.”

After Garrett puffs on the inhaler and his breathing goes back to its regular kind of labored, Annie takes out her gun and points it at his forehead.

“Et tu, Brute?” he asks, clutching his chest.

Annie narrows her eyes and cocks her head at him. “I don’t think that really applies here.”

“It applies in my betrayed heart!” Garrett screeches.

“I don’t want to shoot you,” she says. “So if you cooperate, there’ll be no need for betrayal.”

“What do you want me to do?” he asks, skeptical.

“I’m going to take you to some friends of mine. We’ll talk about it there.”

Garrett whimpers but nods.

Annie leads him back to Troy and Abed. “Don’t shoot,” she calls to them from the end of the hall. “I’ve got a voluntary captive here.”

“I don’t know that I’m a ‘voluntary’ captive so much as ‘easily manipulated’.”

“You said it, not me.”

“Garrett,” Abed nods, slipping out from his hiding place. “I see you’re working for the dark side.”

“Well I’m not an official member of the committee…and there aren’t any other options. I am a dandelion seed. I float along on the winds of chance.”

“And flatulence,” Troy scrunches his nose and waves a hand in front of his face, joining the rest of the group on the ground.

“Yeah, sorry about that.”

“What if I told you there was a way you could redeem yourself?” Abed asks.

“How?”

“By lending us your costume and resigning in the name of saving Greendale.”

Garrett shrugs. “I do get very crabby without at least 13 hours of sleep each night, and we are fast approaching the wee hours of the morning.”

After surrendering his mask, Garrett trudges down the hall, heading for the exit. He pauses at the corner to give a small wave.

Annie goes fishing a few more times, luring masked assailants into the trap with consistent success. They’ve just finished disarming Eric Wisniewski and a few of his friends when Pavel comes skittering down the hall.

“I have something you’re gonna wanna see, bro.”

“What is it?”

“Rachel.”

That’s all it takes to get Abed interested. “Let’s move.”

Troy gathers their stolen costumes, and they follow after Pavel.

“I was headed to the fourth floor to catch your bathroom meeting when I heard voices from one of the rooms,” he explains on the way.

“Is she okay?” Abed asks. “Was she tied to a chair? She hates the ‘someone important to the protagonist gets kidnapped, tied to a chair, and tortured’ trope.”

“I think you should see for yourself,” Pavel says, ushering them up a flight of stairs.

Abed makes a panicky noise and Troy rubs his back. “I’m sure she’s fine, buddy.”

Pavel snorts and Annie’s about to snap at him for being so inconsiderate of Abed’s feelings when he stops in front of a closed door and jabs his thumb meaningfully at it.

Abed kicks it open, splintering the jamb and breaking off the knob. “Leave my girlfriend alone!” he says in a deep, threatening voice, brandishing his gun.

“Abed,” Annie whines, “Stop breaking things!”

He doesn't respond as he's too busy gaping at the scene before him. Annie pokes her head around his thin frame and sees Rachel lounging on the bed, eating French fries and staring at Abed in shock. Vicki and Neil are sitting on a loveseat next to the bed, bags of fast food at their feet and masks pushed up onto their foreheads. There's a television playing _Adventure Time_ softly on the other side of the room.

“Oh,” Troy pushes past Annie and Abed, dropping the clothes on the floor, “greasy noms!”

“What's going on here?” Abed asks as Rachel offers her fries to Troy.

“Well,” she says, “Vicki and Neil are keeping me captive here, and they sent some of the other henchmen for midnight snacks. Want any?”

“Not particularly,” Abed says, narrowing his eyes at Vicki and Neil. “They didn’t hurt you, did they?”

“Hey, man,” Neil holds up his hands. “Does she look wounded to you?”

“She mostly looks well-fed to me,” Troy says. Rachel rolls her eyes and punches him playfully in the shoulder.

“Who gave you orders to take her captive?” Annie asks.

“Well, we could tell you, but then we’d be telling you,” Vicki replies.

“Pavel,” Abed says, turning to him.

“Yeah?”

“I think we’re going to be here for a bit. Can you find Duncan and Britta and bring them back here?”

“I’ll be back in two twitches of a wild boar’s ears,” he says before running off.

“So you’re not going to give us any information?” Annie asks, crossing her arms and hanging in the doorway while Abed joins Rachel and Troy on the bed. He gives Rachel a kiss on the temple and says something under his breath that makes her giggle.

“Depends on what kind of information you want and how much you’re willing to pay,” Vicki says menacingly.

“How about I just shoot you and be done with it,” Annie says, aiming her gun.

“You won’t do that,” Neil says confidently.

“Try me.”

“You won’t do that,” he repeats, “because then we won’t tell you what we know about your honey.”

Annie lowers her gun. “You have word of Jeff?”

Vicki shrugs, infuriatingly coy.

“Told you I’d be back quick.” Pavel marches into the room followed by Britta and Duncan. “They were already on their way here.”

“You are right devious, you know that?” Duncan says to Annie. “Took us forever to find _one_ of your special paintball stashes. Oi! Do I smell bacon?”

“Got an extra bacon cheeseburger right here,” Neil says, tossing it to Duncan.

“Cheers, mate! Oh, look, it’s Abed’s girlfriend…Rita, Raquel, Richter.”

“Rachel,” Rachel deadpans, glaring.

“Keeping Winger in a bubble bath somewhere, are you?”

“No, but we know where he is,” Neil says.

“Bacon gives you cancer,” Britta says, propping her elbow on Annie’s shoulder and raising a pointed eyebrow at Duncan.

“Then I will die a slow and painful death having eaten more than my fair share.”

Britta sticks her tongue out at Duncan and he does it right back.

“Jeez, get a room already,” Troy says, chuckling nervously and looking back and forth between the two of them.

“Where’s Jeff?” Annie demands, refusing to be swayed.

“C’mon, Annie. You know paintball is serious business. No handouts, even to friends,” Neil says.

“What do you want?”

“I believe we heard the words ‘special paintball stash’.”

Annie rolls her eyes, and Abed gets to his feet. “Can we put a pin in this?” he asks.

Vicki and Neil glance at each other, nod, and then turn back to Abed. “We’ll allow it,” Vicki says.

“Save Greendale Committee meeting in the hall,” Abed says, already moving in that direction. “Pavel, stand guard please.”

“We’re _going_ to make a deal with them,” Annie says as soon as everyone’s assembled out of earshot.

Abed shakes his head and clucks his tongue. “I knew you’d suggest that. You’re motivated by emotion, and you can’t see the more logical solution.”

She scoffs. “And you weren’t ‘motivated by emotion’ when you literally kicked a door down to get to Rachel?”

“You did what now?” Britta asks, clearly impressed.

“He totally kicked in a door,” Troy confirms. “Like the episode of Inspector Spacetime when the Inspector and Constable get stuck on planet Karhart and have to recuse space gorillas from a factory basement that's guarded by Blorgons. The Inspector uses his special trainers to disarm the security system by kicking it.” 

“Yes, everyone here has that frame of reference,” Duncan says.

Abed answers Annie’s question, ignoring the rest of the group’s chatter. “I acted rashly, I’ll admit, but this is still different.”

She crosses her arms. “How so?”

“I was simply worried about Rachel. You want to get to Jeff because you feel guilty about what happened. My motivations were selfless and noble. Your idea could endanger the group.”

“ _How so_?” she asks again, this time through gritted teeth.

“Jeff is a capable fighter. If he’s still alive right now, chances are he’s found an effective hiding spot and will continue to be just fine without our help. We don’t know what kind of final battle we’re facing here, though. We’re going to need every last paintball. It won’t do to siphon our supply by giving it away to the enemy.”

“We could use Jeff in the final battle. It’s _all of us_ against this regime, isn’t it?”

“I didn’t ask you two to get your personal lives all over this game,” Abed says.

Annie’s about to hit him with a snappy response when someone at the end of the hall says, “Hey, Pavel, it’s just me.” Her head snaps around and, sure enough, Jeff is jogging up to the group, the dean and Pavel a few steps behind.

She tries to catch his eye, but he’s pointedly avoiding her gaze. Annie’s heart lurches painfully and then sinks to the pit of her stomach.

“I heard through the grapevine that you’ve been collecting enemy robes,” Jeff says.

“That’s me.” The dean raises his hand and hops up and down. “I’m the grapevine!”

“Jeff Winger, you crusty bastard,” Troy says, beaming up at him as if he’s coming face to face with an old war buddy.

Jeff cocks an eyebrow at him but accepts Troy’s hug.

“We were just talking about you…guess that makes you the devil,” Britta says and then laughs once at her own joke.

Jeff just rolls his eyes. “Shirley’s out, huh?”

“Yeah” Abed says. “She got shot during a faceoff with Todd. What are you doing here?”

“Making your day,” Jeff says, smirking. He waits till he’s sure they’re all about to snap under the suspense and then adds, “I’ve found the A-Team’s lair.”

Annie’s been trying to hold in her questions, but Jeff's reveal is too much. “How? Where? Are you okay?”

When he does finally look at her, his expression is carefully neutral. It stings, but she's also relieved that he's not angry.

“I’m fine…and you’re…?”

“I’m great! Well not _great_ , bu—”

“Holy crap,” Abed cuts in. “Where is the A-Team hiding?”

“Right. They’ve been housing their command central in the basement.”

“No! They better not break anything. Gilbert and I had an agreement.”

“Well, I’m sure if you march down there and remind them of the rules, they’ll pack right up and call it a day,” Jeff snarks.

Annie scoffs. “Don’t give me that self-satisfied grin. You like that this increases your chances of winning our bet.”

His smirk grows more pronounced and Annie can’t help smiling back genuinely.

“Gross, you two, stop doing that,” Troy complains.

Jeff clears his throat and seems to remember that he’s supposed to be angry with Annie. “Yeah, paintball. Uh, anyway, I think we should wage an attack as soon as possible. They caught me lurking and chased me away from the scene. That’s when I ran into the dean, who told me what you guys had been up to. We don’t have much time, so if you already have enough of the uniforms we should suit up and sneak down.”

The group agrees and heads back into the room to take inventory.

Neil and Vicki scowl when they see that Jeff’s reunited with the committee and Annie nods smugly at them, reveling in the moment.

Once they’re sure they have all the supplies they need to successfully disguise themselves, they crowd into the fourth floor bathroom, changing into the dark clothes and using some lipstick Britta had to draw red A’s on each other’s cheeks.

Pavel agrees to stay and detain Neil and Vicki and keep an eye on Rachel.

Dean Pelton decides to come along for the ride even though he can’t participate, and the group is delayed arguing with him about the importance of changing out of his superhero costume so as to not draw attention to their stealthy entrance.

As soon as they’re finally ready to head out, Annie sends a text to Shirley, updating her, and then follows after the group.

Jeff leads, taking them along the scenic route so they can eliminate as many of the remaining A-Team members along the way as possible.

When they get to the first floor, all the masked guards are mysteriously missing.

“Man, this is intense,” Britta whispers.

Abed shushes her.

“Here we are,” Jeff stops at the door across from the laundry at the far end of the east wing of the house. “The basement is through that doorway.”

“Dean, you open it,” Abed says.

“Why me?” the dean asks, cowering.

“Because it doesn’t matter if you get shot; you’re already out.”

Reluctantly, Dean Pelton walks up to the door, gingerly turns the knob, and then pushes it open with so much force it bangs against the wall and nearly swings shut again.

“Wow,” Jeff marvels. “You are useless, aren’t you?”

“I got scared, okay?”

“Just move,” Jeff says, pushing past the dean to start down the long, slightly curved staircase.

“Do you feel that?” Abed asks excitedly.

“What?” Annie says.

“A draft—follow the draft. Leonard’s clue!”

“Oh, yeah! I guess that means we’re definitely in the right place.”

The Save Greendale Committee creeps down the stairs, everyone holding their guns at the ready. There’s no lighting along the stairwell, and it’s a miracle they make it all the way down without tripping and falling.

However, the accomplishment is slightly dampened by the fact that they get captured as soon as they reach the basement. The lights flicker on, momentarily blinding the group, and masked assailants pounce on them, ready with handcuffs.

Annie _really_ doesn’t want to dwell on where exactly they found seven pairs of cuffs, but she gets a pretty good idea when they’re forced onto their knees in front of a makeshift throne upon which Starburns of all people is sitting, wearing an awful lot of leather and holding a whip.

“Looks like someone found Pierce’s sex lair,” Duncan says. He’s only voicing her thoughts, but the comment still makes her gag overdramatically.

“Silence, captive,” Starburns booms. “You are at my mercy, and I will have no backtalk.”

Britta shares a terrified look with Annie.

“I’m sorry, but there’s just no way that _you’re_ the mastermind behind all this,” Jeff says.

“And what’s that supposed to mean, Winger?” Starburns jumps to his feet and glares down at Jeff.

“Dude, we’ve been at the same school together for six years. I’m well aware of what you’re capable of, and this just doesn’t compute.”

“This is the part where you acknowledge that Jeff’s trying to make you monologue to buy time, and then you do it anyway because you can’t resist a good gloat,” Abed says, his eyes wide with excitement.

“Your pet weirdo is right,” Starburns says, crossing his arms and leering at each committee member. “Methinks you want to hear the story of how awesome I am.”

“That’s _not_ what Abed said,” Jeff points out. “But go ahead—wow me.”

“First, I assembled an army by offering people discounts on pot.”

“So far, so believable,” Annie whispers to Britta. “It’s not like anyone would follow him without a good reason.”

“I didn’t get offered a discount,” Britta pouts.

“Of course, some people were willing to help just because you guys are attention hoggers. Then I got some loser to hack into your walkie-talkie signal.”

“I knew it!” Abed says.

“Then, when you stopped using them, I had to get inventive. So I texted Duncan and offered _him_ a discount on pot to soften him up and skillfully extracted your location from him.”

“I was the mole? Well, now, that’s just embarrassing.”

“I wasn’t entirely surprised when you guys escaped our attack, and I already had a backup plan in place. We kidnapped captain dork’s girlfriend and waited for you guys to come to us. So thanks for being predictable, nob-gobblers.”

“I’m still not convinced. You’re asking for a lot of suspension of disbelief here,” Jeff says.

“There’s still one thing, I don’t get,” Troy says. “Why did you make everyone paint an A on their face?”

Everyone murmurs assent that A was, in fact, a weird letter to choose.

“My name, you idiots,” Starburns says, looking at them as if they’re missing something obvious.

“Starburns doesn’t have an A in it,” Troy scoffs. “Wait. Pretend I didn’t say that.”

“My name is ALEX!” Starburns screams, cracking his whip. “How many _times_ do I have to _tell you_ that my _name. is. Alex_!?”

“Now, now, Alex,” a familiar voice says. “Let’s not lose our cool.”

Dean Spreck spins into view, coming out from his hiding place behind the throne.

“City College,” Annie says, narrowing her eyes.

“I knew you were too stupid to orchestrate this whole thing,” Jeff says to Starburns, who sneers at him.

“Oh, Stephen,” the dean sighs. “You know sequels are never as good as the original, and you already failed the first time you tried to infiltrate paintball. This is like _Grease_ and _Grease 2_ all over again.”

“Shut up, Craig, this has nothing to do with you.”

“Greendale is my school,” the dean says, affronted. “This has everything to do with me.”

Dean Spreck ignores him. “I’ve come to destroy _her_ ,” he says, pointing at Annie.

“What?” Jeff snaps. “Why?”

“Greendale has never been a threat to City College, not really. It wasn’t until the Edison brat started organizing grant-writing campaigns that our admissions numbers took a hit and Greendale’s started to rise. That simply will not do.”

“Well, if you hadn’t noticed, we’re not at Greendale,” Annie says, raising her eyebrows. “What exactly are you expecting to get out of being here?”

“I’m glad you asked,” he says, turning up his head. “My plan was simple: tie you up and steal your money.”

“What? You can’t do that!”

“Well, unless I’ve miscalculated, the cashbox should be unguarded right now. Plus, if any of you try to stop me, I’ll blast you with this!” He picks up the paintball grenade launcher and then makes a break for the stairs.

“Get him!” Annie shouts, struggling to her feet.

The rest happens in a blur of chaos. The committee members all fumble trying to get off the ground. Starburns charges for them, his gun drawn, but Duncan throws his body at the drug dealer, absorbing the shot. “That’s for tricking me, you arse-licker!” To the rest of the group, he says, “Go on without me!”

Everyone runs for the stairs and they stumble their way up to the first level where Dean Spreck has already gotten a hold of the cashbox.

“You’ll never get away!” Britta yells after him.

He turns around, smirking, and starts launching grenades willy-nilly, showering the ceiling, floor, and walls with paint of every color of the rainbow.

Dean Pelton, surprisingly, is the first one to break out of his shock and runs full-tilt at his rival dean, ready to head-butt him to the ground.

Shirley walks in the front door, inadvertently cutting off Dean Spreck’s exit. “Oh, dear Lord,” she says, looking around her in shock.

Dean Pelton’s head connects with Dean Spreck’s stomach then, pushing him back into Shirley. The three of them fall to the ground and the cashbox and grenade launcher fly into the air.

The impressive gun lands with a _crunch_ , triggering the launch of one last paintball grenade.

Several, long seconds of silence follow the end of all the commotion.

“Well,” Abed says. “It looks like we’re all out.”

It’s true—every single person in the hallway has been doused with paint.

“That was _awesome_!” Troy jumps up and down a few times.

Duncan emerges from the basement then. “Who wants the use of their hands again?” he asks, holding up a ring of keys.

After she’s been released, Annie rushes to retrieve the cashbox. “This money is going to be invested in students every bit deserving of education as City College scholars,” she says to Dean Spreck. “You should be ashamed of yourself.”

He starts crying. “I am! I just…Greendale is so much happier than City College. I wanted to learn how to have fun like you guys, and I like being your villain. I was never _actually_ going to walk away with your money. I’m sorry.”

Annie purses her lips, not quite convinced.

Dean Pelton accepts his speech right away, though. “Stephen,” he says, putting a hand over his heart. “If you want to collaborate more, all you have to do is say so. Greendale’s doors are always open.”

“You mean that?”

“Of course! How about we go out to dinner tomorrow evening and discuss some school-mixing dance ideas?”

“That sounds…delightful.”

“Did Dean Pelton just ask that guy on a date?” Troy asks.

“I always said there was homoerotic subtext to Dean Spreck’s schemes,” Britta says.

“So what?” Jeff asks, shaking his head at her. “You think there’s homoerotic subtext to everything.”

Since the game is officially over, Annie starts organizing the cleaning crews by floor.

Even though it’s nearly 2:00 am, no one complains about having to stay and scrub paint off the walls. Everyone seems too jazzed in the wake of the game to want to go home anyway.

By the time the committee members make it to the front vestibule of Hawthorne Manor, easily the dirtiest place in the whole building, it’s dawn, and gray-blue light is leaking into the hall.

Annie’s trying to concentrate on scraping globs of paint off the walls, but she keeps sneaking glances over at Jeff, who’s holding a ladder while Abed scrubs at the ceiling.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Shirley says, grabbing the scraper from Annie. “You spent six years apart because you didn’t communicate with each other. Just go talk to him.”

Grateful, Annie walks over to Jeff and clears her throat. “Can we—”

She doesn’t even have to finish asking. “Yeah. Let’s go outside.”

They walk around the sodden backyard till they come by a wooden bench swing. Jeff holds out his hand, motioning for Annie to have a seat. Water seeps into her clothes the second she sits, making her squirm in discomfort. Jeff settles himself next to her, and they sway in silence for a while.

“I…I don’t really know how to begin,” Annie says apologetically.

Jeff grunts and nods his head in agreement.

She really wishes he’d stop staring straight ahead and look at her.

When he doesn’t give her anything to work with, Annie tries again. “I guess an ‘I’m sorry’ is probably a good a place to start as any. So…I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make it sound like I was going to pack up and take off as soon as I get my degree.”

He lets out the breath he’d been holding and finally turns his head to meet her gaze. “Well that’s good to hear.”

She smiles at him and cups his cheek in the palm of her hand. “I am uncertain about what’s going to happen to my life after I graduate, though.”

He leans into her hand and covers it with his own. “What are you so unsure of?”

“Whether I’ll go to grad school or take on a few internships. Where I’m going to live, though I know it’s time for me to move on from apartment 303. I’ve been saving a lot of my Barnes and Noble money, and I think I can afford my own place again—a much nicer place. What town I’ll even end up in.” After a beat, she adds, “You.”

“You’ve been worried about my reaction to the news that you’re going to graduate.” It’s not a question. He’s obviously been thinking hard about what happened, and his words are colored with regret and shame.

“Well…yeah,” Annie sighs. “I’ve known you for six years, and you’re not exactly great at coping with change. And, I know it was unfair of me, but I didn’t want us to have to talk about this serious stuff for a bit. I wanted our carefree fun phase to last longer.”

Jeff diverts his gaze again and scrubs his hands over his face. “Okay, so I know this is going to sound rich given how I behaved today, but I don’t want you to feel like you have to hide big news like this from me. I’m rooting for you, Annie, and I want to celebrate your accomplishments. Because I’m your biggest fan, and I want you to succeed, to have everything out of life and accomplish your goals—whether that’s moving to a different state to go to grad school or becoming a teacher at Greendale.”

She smiles and rests her forehead on his shoulder. “But?”

“No buts,” he says. “That’s a totally unqualified statement. And, for the record, I’m not in this relationship for carefree fun. I’m in it because I want an entire lifetime with you, Annie.”

Speechless, she nods against his shoulder, tears springing to her eyes.

“So promise me one thing: you won’t be uncertain about me anymore. Wherever you go in life, you’re taking me with you. I don’t care if we have to do the long-distance thing or if I have to pack up my life—which, by the way, has _very_ shallow roots—and follow you across the United States. I am committed to this relationship.”

Annie lifts her head to look him in the eye. “Me too, one hundred percent. I want _ten_ lifetimes with you.”

He huffs a laugh. “As long as we’re on the same page with that, then there’s no problem here.”

“Resolved, then,” she says, raising her eyebrows playfully at him.

Jeff smiles at her. “Resolved,” he agrees, kissing her on the nose.

“It’s a two-way street, by the way,” Annie says. “The wanting everything you want. And I _know_ you don’t want to be teaching at Greendale forever.”

Jeff shrugs. “Encouragement to chase my dreams so noted.”

“Good. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

After several moments of peaceful silence, she says, “My butt is cold and wet.”

“You held Todd hostage in a thunderstorm. There’s not a single part of you that’s dry.”

“Abed told you about that, huh?”

Jeff nods. “I also got an earful about how Shirley walked down the side of the building.”

“Yeah, that was very impressive.”

“I’m sorry I missed it.”

“Me too.” She kisses him on the cheek. “We should probably go back inside before we’re accused of not pulling our weight.”

They make their way across the lawn, but Jeff stops her when they’re almost to the door. “Look at that.”

“What?”

“It’s still standing,” Jeff motions to Hawthorne Manor.

“It sure is, though it’s not like the building didn’t withstand a fair amount of destruction. Where does that leave us on the bet?”

“I guess we never clearly defined ‘destroyed’.”

She rolls her eyes. “Ever the lawyer. You just don’t want to admit that I won.”

“The prize is sex, Annie. Everybody wins.”

“Okay, but I really need to hear you say it,” she teases, poking him in the side. “Annie won.”

“Never,” he smirks down at her and tucks her as close as he can to his side.

Chuckling, they walk back inside.


End file.
